Alteration
by Larxenethefirefly
Summary: The denouement is reaching its close as both Kirk and McCoy race against time to stop a common enemy. Will Kirk reach McCoy in time to help him stop Hunter, or will the doctor have to take matters into his own hands...even if it kills a friend?
1. Chapter 1

Yeah, my first star trek fanfic!!! And of course, given my obsession with McCoy, it's about him :) Seeing as I'm also trying to finish another one of my stories, this will probably be updated slowly, but i put it up here as a trial run to see how ya'll like it. Enjoy!

_A year after Nero's demise, McCoy is certain he has found a home on the Enterprise. But when Starfleet Command arranges for him to be transferred to a research station on an out-of-the-way planet, he is not pleased. Disgruntled, he finds himself in a place where appearance is everything, and corruption is common. As he becomes entangled in the station's affairs, he realizes there is more to the place than meets the eye- and with a stunning female sidekick, he's ready to discover what it means to meddle with the code of human lives, and to save his very world from complete and utter destruction.

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_"You paranoid, insensitive, unfeeling, conceited bastard!"_

His wife's screams were probably heard throughout the community. Though McCoy had to agree with her choice of words, 'conceited' went too far- unless she thought he was showing off by his explanations of what diseases could do to you. Which he wasn't; it was only to warn her about what happened when it went wrong- and it always went wrong. Take now, for instance; he had only been a little late coming back from the store, and she exploded in his face, causing him to drop the eggs and milk carton, which had made her even angrier and his apparent lack of self-concern had been the cherry on top of a really shitty sundae.

She stormed out of the house, and he swore he saw steam rising from her head. That wasn't a good sign. Overheating was usually a symptom of the Untonium Fever; first, you were extremely warm, and then began to sweat profusely, and on top of that your body begins to swell until you expand outward like a grotesque balloon, and of course at _some_ point you had to pop to relieve the pressure, and that was never a pretty sight…

Shaking his head, Leonard McCoy attempted to clean up the cracked eggs, muttering about "Needy females" and "overdevelop hormones" the whole time. He hadn't broken many- only two or three out of the two-dozen- so he didn't see the point to her eruption. He guessed this was what happened when an aspiring medical student was smitten for a resident nurse while on internship. They had only dated for two whole months before tying the knot; two years later, it was blowing up in his face like a phaser bomb.

She returned that night, somewhat subdued again. He was reading the newspaper in the living room, the TV on just to provide background noise. Engrossed in a story of a couple who had survived a deadly blood disease, he didn't recognize her presence even when she stood in front of the flashing screen.

"Leonard…" She began, but when he didn't respond she let out an impatient sigh and placed her hand on the paper in front of his eyes. He blinked, and then looked sourly up at her. "What's wrong this time, Trisha?" He asked.

He was immediately put on guard when she sat beside him and attempted to take his hand. "Listen, I don't think this marriage is working out for us. Sure, the first year was great… not to mention the sex… but this wasn't meant to be." She paused, and if she had been expecting him to wail, cry, and _insist_ that she stop talking nonsense, she was sadly mistaken. He simply snorted, said "No shit," And went back to reading.

Her anger was rising, but she held it admirably in check. "I want to get a divorce, Leonard. I've already got the papers finalized; all you have to do is sign."

Blowing out a sigh of relief, McCoy said, "I daresay that's the best news I've heard all day. Where's the pen, woman?"

Trisha was visibly startled, and then her face turned a deep red. "You don't even care that I'm leaving you?"

"Hell no," He replied bluntly. "You're gone most of the time anyway."

This ignited yet another torrent of screams, curses, and yells as he calmly stood, grabbed a pen, and signed the papers without a second's hesitation.

Of course, now that he thought about it, he should have looked at the paper beforehand.

She had gotten _everything_. The house, money, property, you name it. Not only that, but she had gone and destroyed his reputation in every society within a two-hundred mile radius. Honestly, he didn't know how she did it, but now he had nowhere to go.

Which was why he had ended up in Starfleet, of all places.

Though they had accepted him graciously enough, they didn't have many hopes for him. He was already nearing his thirties, and most of the people his age were already graduated. He was to be, at best, on Assistant Medical Staff- not the type of job he wanted, nor was he used to.

He would be damned if they thought an old dog couldn't learn new tricks.

Within a year of joining, he was already enrolled in advanced medical courses, rolling ahead like a barely contained tornado. His peers both feared and admired him- this was a type of man that could do anything he put his mind to. Though his paranoia frightened many, they quickly got used to it and largely ignored his rants.

This mainly stemmed from dealing with his wife; suddenly, he was in an environment that he knew, he respected; no one was demanding things that he couldn't achieve, and so long as he did his work, no one complained. Yet, without the disruption, his life seemed too… steady. He needed some way of asserting himself, and this came in form of bawling out commands and sarcastic comments. He was all bark and no bite, and this proved to be more successful than anyone ever imagined.

As the top of his class, no one imagined he could become friends with the most troublesome cadet in the school.

Even McCoy himself couldn't explain it. Perhaps it was because, on the fateful day they had met, Jim had been so assure of himself, something that McCoy never could accomplish completely. He was quick-witted, and easy to relax around. Though Jim hid behind a playful, carefree exterior, McCoy could sense a strong, fully capable leader lurking under the surface. Maybe it was the doctor within him that wanted to make Jim become that leader, or a strange paternal sense wanted to push the young man further, but whatever the reason, a strong bond was created. Jim was someone McCoy could lean on in moments when his past was too hard to handle; somehow, he was smiling within a few moments. Though Jim was many things, he was not coldhearted.

So, when he was placed on academic suspension, his heart naturally ruled out. Dragging his unsuspecting friend to the temporary medical center, he did the one thing he could do best- be a doctor.

Injecting Jim with the virus, he led the struggling cadet to the space shuttle, his fear of flying only a slight buzz in the back of his brain as he beheld Starbase 1 for the very first time. Awed, he could hardly breathe; and then Jim let out a shuddering gasp, bent over, and puked into the bag McCoy had thoughtfully brought along with him.

After that, everything went from bad to worse.

All too soon, he watched his best friend- and himself, admittedly- grow up before his eyes. Responsibility he had never dealt with before was placed in his trembling hands; hiding his fear behind a harsh and sarcastic exterior, he dominated the sickbay without mercy, working endless hours to save the wounded, and ease the pain of the dying. Images he had only seen in simulations and had read about in textbooks were nothing compared to the real thing. Part of him wondered why he had even become a doctor if he detested death so much; the other half was joyous that he could finally prove himself, show to someone that he was worthwhile. Unlike the belittling Trisha, Starfleet valued him for who he was.

This only goes to prove that fate had funny ways of shoving you right into the mud after you had just picked yourself up and dusted off your clothes.

"Bones, I'm sorry. Even I can't contradict Starfleet Command orders." Kirk said desperately, looking at his friend in sadness. "It's only for a year; we'll be back to pick you up before you know it."

McCoy slammed a fist into the table. "Damn them!" He hissed. "I want to serve on the _Enterprise,_ not at some out-of-the-way station!"

"Bones, I…"

"It's not your fault, Jim." He sighed. "I'll go, but they aren't going to send me away again. You better pick me up exactly one year from now, or I swear I'll sabotage every medical supply you got, one way or another!"

Kirk gave a slight smile. "I wouldn't put it past you. You'd best pack; we'll arrive soon."

A heavy scowl on his face, McCoy followed his Captain and friend to his quarters, his feet growing heavier by the minute. Most of the staff was unaware of his sudden and inexplicable reassignment; they just assumed the duo had gotten into another spat again. Kirk would soon tell them, of course, after McCoy left; he didn't want to deal with emotional and long farewells.

"You know," Kirk said as the tossed the clothes haphazardly into a bag, "Maybe for once in your life you'll get to escape my incessant chatter."

"I'll appreciate the silence." McCoy replied. "But you know that it'll be too boring down there for my taste."

His captain hesitated, a worried expression in his eyes, then he blinked and it was gone. "Oh, you're sure to have some sort of action. You seem to attract trouble."

"If I recall," he said dryly, "I only get into trouble whenever you're around."

Kirk nervously rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, who knows? I may rub off on you. Here, this bag's full. For a doctor, you have hardly anything on hand."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Kirk only chuckled, packing the next bag.

They were done within ten minutes. As the last bag was zipped up, Scotty's voice came over the intercom. "We're reachin' our destination, sir. The transporter room is ready."

"We'll be right down, Scotty." Kirk said. "You ready, Bones?"

"No, but we'd best get this over with." Bones sighed, dragging his bags down the hallway.

In the transporter room, Scotty gave him a friendly hug. "Take care of yerself down there, mate. I want to see ye upon our arrival next year!"

Spock nodded. "It is a great shame to see someone of your skills depart. As the Starship's first officer, I tell you good luck. As your friend, I say I hope that we will meet again soon."

"As do I," Nyota said. "I'll keep my frequencies open should you call."

Touched that everyone he cared about most was here to see him off, McCoy almost cried- almost, but didn't. He blamed the Vulcan. "Keep yourselves healthy. I don't want to take care of you first thing when I return from whatever the hell it is I'm supposed to do down there."

Kirk laughed. "We'll miss you, Bones."

He stepped onto the transporter pad, his stern expression still in place; then he relaxed, and smiled. "Well, I'll see you all in a year. Farewell."

Scotty activated the pad, and as he energized, he swore he saw tears in the engineer's eyes. But that could have been due to the effect of the beam on his body.

He landed on the planet seconds later, standing in front of a clean, meticulous scientific building. His bags, already beamed down ahead of him, were lying on the ground next to him. Tugging on his blue shirt, he marched smartly up and knocked on the door.

It opened immediately. "Doctor Leonard McCoy here," he said, nodding at the man who had answered the door.

He nodded. "Of course. Right this way, sir." Signaling to two nearby staff, he gestured at the bags. "Bring Doctor McCoy's items to his room."

The intern led him through the sterile hallways, and McCoy had to marvel at the advanced technology that was equipped. He had several of the items on hand on the _Enterprise_, but some he had never seen, much less used. His scientific mind in full gear, he tried to puzzle out what each machine was used for.

His guide halted in front of a polished mahogany door, out of place in this white and grey building. Interested, McCoy watched as the intern knocked, and upon hearing a muffled "Come in," entered.

Behind an ornate wooden desk sat a man far too fat for his own good. He was bald, with flakey skin on the crown of his skin and sausage-like fingers that punched everything it touched to ascertain that he made contact. His clothes, mostly made from a light, stretchy material that did nothing to flatter his figure in any way, were stained with food and drink.

"Ah, McCoy. Captain Kirk must have sent you, yes?" he asked. "I'm Commander Gordo, in charge of this here medical research station on Planet Theta Six. I am eager to see your skills in this area."

"Thanks for your hospitality, sir." Bones replied stiffly, not liking the man at all. Unlike Kirk, this man cared nothing for his subordinates. How someone like him ever progressed to Commander he would never know.

"Thatcher, take McCoy to his room. Assign an intern to explain his duties while you organize his team, understood?"

"Yes, sir," Thatcher turned, leading McCoy outside and to a separate building. "You will be staying here, in building A-6. Your room is the first on the right." Without another word, he left.

Annoyed, McCoy went into his room, eyeing the boring white walls and small bed critically. Besides a small nightstand, trunk, sink, and mirror, there were no other furnishings- a small toilet was tucked into the corner. Apparently, it wasn't for comfort- this already showed he would be spending most of his time working.

His bags were placed neatly at the foot of his bed, and as he unpacked he wondered just what Starfleet wanted him to do here.

A soft knock on his door alerted him to a visitor. Going to the door, he opened it to see a woman, who looked somewhat nervous to see him.

She was in her early twenties, with strait dirty-blonde hair and green eyes. She was rather petite, with a slime frame and a delicate bearing. Still, he could see that she was spirited- and in an instant he was hooked by her innocent charm.

"My name's Lillian Thompson, sir. I was sent here to show you around."

He nodded, interested in what she had to show him. And, he had to admit to himself, Lillian as well- he had stumbled into a real interesting woman, and he wasn't about to let it fall away.

From the tour, McCoy was able to see that it was just like any other research station. Bland, sterile, and uneventful. He was to work in Bioinformatics and Bioengineering; basically, messing with the human DNA to cure genetic diseases. This he did not like at all- no one knew what could happen by messing with the coding of human life. Sure, they could cure a certain cancer, but they could also create something far more devastating! Meddling with human lives was a big no-no in his book. He worked to save, not destroy!

Still, he had to admit the temptation of creating a cure for any type of disease was too great for him to resist.

"This is your division leader's office; if you have any questions, visit him here." Lillian was saying. "All orders for you to follow come from him, and the orders from your team come from you. As team leader, you get to choose if you work or not; though you are required to be in the lab during your shift, it is your choice to either work with your team or not. However, you must file a report of progress at the end of every week."

"For an intern, you sure do know your stuff," He said.

She shrugged. "I've been here long enough to get used to the system. If I recall, I was placed on your team; I can help you on any other aspects of your job."

In a very Kirk-like moment, one that equally appalled and shocked him, McCoy asked, "What are the policies of pursuing…romantic ideas between staff members?"

Lillian looked confused, but answered, "I'm not entirely sure. Perhaps you can ask your Division leader?"

Though unsatisfied, McCoy nodded. Still, this arrangement didn't seem as bad as he had originally thought.

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It's a fanficion crime to read, favorite, or alert without reveiwing. Unless you want me to have Spock practice his Vulcan Neck Pinch, I advise you to click that pretty green button below :)


	2. Chapter 2

Hey! Chapter 2 finally posted! :3 Sorry about the wait- I took a two-week trip to my Aunt's without my laptop D: But it's up now, so enjoy~

btw, I am searching for a beta for this story- if interested, please message me. Your only requirements are having extensive knowledge on the ST universe, and an eye for grammatical detail. to make me really happy, scientific knowledge- but that's not as important as the other two. I'll be forever grateful for your help!!

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Spock turned to his Captain. "Are you certain it was the right idea to send McCoy there?"

Kirk frowned. "Who else would I send? Starfleet asked for the best man I had, so I had no choice. Either McCoy went, or we would fail."

"Sir, if he doesn't know the reason for his transfer, it's only logical he should fail." Spock replied evenly. "Even Doctor McCoy can't read minds."

"Spock, what's logical isn't always right. The less he knows, the safer he is. Besides, he's Bones; he'll figure it out." Kirk said matter-of-factly. Sliding into his seat, he said, "Uhura, are we clear of Theta Six's frequencies?"

"Yes sir," Uhura said, after checking her panel. "They cannot trace us."

"Wonderful. Set a course for Planet Theron, Sulu. If McCoy is to succeed, he needs all the help he can get." Kirk leaned back in his chair briefly. "I certainly hope this will work."

"We all do, Captain," Uhura responded sadly.

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The first day McCoy was to report for his job, he was twenty minutes late. Blaming it on the _Enterprise_'s laid-back atmosphere when not in a crisis, he was used to sleeping in- now, as he ran through the hallways in his new uniform cursing his luck, only one thought ran through his mind- _This is not going to end well._

Barging in the door, he saw his team milling about the room, at a loss as to what they were required to do. He glared at them. "What are you waiting for? Get going! I want work, people, not gossip!" As they scrambled to their stations, startled, he jabbed a finger at one. "You there, what's your name?"

"Bryant, sir. Gregory Bryant."

"Gregory, go find me some equipment, the best they got for this field. Do whatever it takes to get it, understood? Bring it back within the hour. You three, stop staring! This is a medical building, not a personal theatre!"

"Sir, do you even know what we're doing?" One asked hesitantly. McCoy looked at him sharply. "Yes. Study specific strands of DNA, and find ways to change them so as to eliminate genetic disorders and diseases. Your jobs are to extract the DNA provided and run them through tests, then once you believe to have found the gene in question, run further tests until you can find out how to change it. I may be new, but I'm not ignorant."

"Sir…" it was the same man again. "Why did you send Bryant for more equipment?"

McCoy was used to questioning, so he replied without his usual sharpness. "I'm going to help you. We need all the hands we can get; so start working! I don't want to tell my division leader that we were too busy talking and not getting anything done."

This instantly caused a ripple of fear throughout the room, and every head turned toward their machinery. McCoy sighed in exasperation. What was with these people? It was as if they were scared of attention. "While you work, I'll be dropping by to learn your names. Since we'll be stuck together for a while, we might as well get to know each other."

As he wandered about the room, he asked every member their name, what their specialty was, and how long they had worked there. Most were direct graduates, but a few were seasoned researchers. Lillian was the only intern.

She was tucked into a back corner, hidden by large machinery. As he approached her desk, she said, "I certainly hope you don't have to ask my name."

"Of course not. I remember a pretty face when I see one." He replied, eyebrows rising. "Though I do wonder why you're in a corner by yourself."

Lillian shrugged. "I get more work done back here- around people I tend to chatter, and so I have to force myself to work." She glared at him. "See? I'm talking right now."

"My fault," He replied evenly. "So, do you like it here?"

She shrugged. "It's not bad, though I would have preferred somewhere more eventful. I wanted to be assigned to a starship, but they had more use for me here."

Thoughtful, McCoy said, "Maybe I can hook you up. I was assigned to the _Enterprise_; the captain's my best friend. If you want, I can persuade him to let you join next year when I return."

Her eyes widened slightly. "The _Enterprise_? You must be the best doctor Starfleet had to offer. Only the best go on there… unfortunately, I'm not." She sighed. "Sure, I can keep up, but that's about it. I don't really have any special skills; I'm just your everyday average Joe."

"I think I can find some excuse." McCoy replied. "'Sides, Jim owes me a favor. Letting you on will about even the deal."

She smiled slowly. "Then, I would love to, Doctor."

"Call me Bones."

Lillian blinked, but he had already walked off before she could question him about the nickname. Shrugging, she turned back to her work, carefully manipulating the dials.

Gregory returned with the equipment in tow a half hour later, looking rather uncomfortable. "Here are your items, sir. Where do you want them to be set up?"

McCoy looked about the room. The only place available was his desk, and a small area next to Lillian… "Over there," He said, pointing to the far wall. "I'm pretty sure it will fit."

Though he wasn't an engineer, McCoy knew how to set up medical equipment, and as he did so, his helpers shot uneasy glances at him. This wasn't right. Most of the team leaders were slave drivers, doing little work themselves. McCoy was new, but it wasn't long until the others of his station swayed him to their views. Uneasily, they bent to their task.

Lillian watched McCoy out of the corner of her eye, noting wryly that the two of them were sheltered behind other pieces of machinery. Whether or not he had planned this, it was only the two of them in the isolated section- she walked over to help.

Between the two of them, the new equipment was organized and ready to work by the end of their shift. Mentally exhausted, McCoy realized that, for once, he had skipped lunch- and breakfast, for that matter. His stomach complaining, he said, "Is there a mess hall around here?"

Lillian giggled. "You really are from a starship, aren't you? The cafeteria is just down the hall. Here, let me show you."

The pretty blonde led him to the room, casually matching his pace to walk along beside him. "You know," She said, "You aren't like the others around here."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, the other team leaders are obsessed with moving up in the scale, and care little for the ones working for them. You truly do seem to care; I like it. You're more…human."

McCoy snorted. "I was never aware that I was alien in the first place."

Laughing, Lillian shook her head. "Here's the cafeteria. I'm warning you, there's not much of a selection- we don't eat very often, as you have already realized."

"Well, it's probably better than what they serve on the _Enterprise_. Generated food is good and all, but nothing beats a home-cooked meal."

His companion shifted. "Um…"

"The food here is generated as well, isn't it?"

She nodded, and McCoy muttered something under his breath-though it wasn't detectable, Lillian knew it wasn't something pleasant.

They entered the cafeteria, and McCoy instantly noticed it was empty. Only a few personnel were actually eating, looking exhausted and drained. Concerned, he asked, "Does anyone here take a day off?"

Lillian shook her head. "No. We're expected to work every day of the week, fifteen hours a day. It's hard to get used to, but you do, eventually. From what I've seen, it's about an average of three months- it was about two and a half for me."

"I don't expect to be one of those figures." He said. "Give me two weeks."

She looked surprised. "Well, all right then. What are your wages?"

"If I win, you treat me to dinner once we get off this blasted rock." McCoy said, smirking. Lillian matched his expression perfectly. "And if I win, you'll get me a job on the _Enterprise_."

"Deal!" He said, and they shook hands. He was determined to win, of course- but, the alternative wasn't such a bad idea.

He examined the food cards. "Vegetable soup, salad, fruit, spaghetti… well, what do you know? They have gumbo! Haven't had it since I left Earth. Hope they can replicate it well enough for me to actually miss home again."

"I take it you didn't have a happy home life?" She said, sliding a card into the slot.

"You could say that." He frowned, Trisha popping into his mind. Shaking his head to clear the thoughts, he waited for the small 'ping' and pulled out the tray. "Hope is tastes as good as it smells," He said.

They sat down at a small table, close enough for their knees to barely brush one another's- an electric wave ran through him, leaving a pleasant buzz. A little dazed, he almost missed the question- "So, tell me about yourself. It's not every day a starship officer gets transferred to a place like this."

McCoy shrugged. "Honestly, I have no idea how it happened. Starfleet wanted the best man for the job, and I was chosen. Jim- I mean, Captain Kirk- knows as little as I do about the decision."

His companion glanced about the room. Lowering her voice, she said, "I have an idea of why you're here. You see, there is this something called The Choosing- once a week, someone is Chosen for something- some say it's a reward, others think it's a punishment. Whatever it is, no one ever comes back. I think Starfleet wants to know what it is, and they need someone they can trust to figure it out."

Thoughtfully, he stirred his spoon in his soup. "Hmm. Well, that is interesting. Do you think it has anything to do with the experiments conducted here?"

"I don't know… but I want to find out. There's something about this place that doesn't sit well with me."

"You noticed it, too? I thought it was just me." He replied. "Listen- how about we work together in this? Ask around, see if we can get on Gordo's good side- perhaps we can pool our resources and solve this mystery."

Lillian nodded. "I like the sound of that. See you tomorrow, Sir…Bones."

He grinned at the nickname, watching her leave. Maybe they were both crazy, embarking on a mission that could either prove they were paranoid or correct, but any excuse to be with the pretty intern was a good one.

/////////////////

Kirk entered the Bridge, noticing immediately that something was wrong. Catching the look Uhura sent him, he joined her. "What is it?"

"Sir, I just received a message from Starfleet. Their orders have changed- we are to observe, to not get involved. It seems that we have already been suspected."

He frowned. "Already? I knew the situation was unstable, but that is impressive. Spock, do you think we should go ahead and send a landing party?"

"If we are suspected, then it's only logical we lay low." The Vulcan replied. "However, we have already arranged a meeting with Theron's president- to back out now would further prove our involvement."

Kirk nodded. "We just have to be careful, then. Sulu, how long until we arrive?"

"Two and a half hours, sir."

"Wonderful." Kirk pushed a button on his control panel. "Kirk to engineering. Come in, Scotty."

"Scott here, sir."

"Can you spare a few moments and come to the briefing room? There's something I need to discuss." After hearing his friend's confirmation, he turned. "Spock, Uhura, will you accompany me as well?"

The trio left the bridge, going to the briefing room. Scotty had yet to arrive- taking a seat, Uhura said, "Who are you going to bring, Sir?"

"I'm thinking about it." He said absently. "Right now, we need to figure out just what Starfleet meant in their original orders."

Scotty entered. By looking at their expression, he knew it was serious- quickly, he took a seat.

Kirk nodded at him. "Uhura, can you replay the message, please?"

The communications officer nodded, pushing a few buttons on the computer. It whirred, then, in a voice that was neither female nor male, said, "Please say your request."

"Replay the two most recent Starfleet messages," Uhura said, and the computer made a few noises as it processed. "Request permitted. Accessing files." There was another click, and then the computer began speaking in a voice that sounded exactly like Admiral Pike.

"Starfleet to Enterprise. Hello, Jim- this is Admiral Pike. As you very well know, things have been out of order ever since Nero's attack. Certain people have decided that Starfleet is weakened, and are trying to exploit it- unfortunately, I cannot disagree with them. We lost a lot of able commanders, and though our forces are down, they won't be for long. However, we don't have time to wait- forces are moving against us, and we need your help.

"There is a research station on Theta Six that is the key to their operation. I want you to send down your best medical officer to infiltrate- try to be as subtle as possible, for they cannot know what is going on. If word were to leak out about our suspicions, then this whole thing could go wrong.

"I would also ask that you pay a visit to Planet Theron. We believe that their headquarters are there- it's a relatively small planet, with little economic value, so it is a prime spot for their purposes. You are to pretend to be investigating their crop yields, and how you can improve their economy. Once again I urge you to hide your true intentions. Get in there and discover what they are up to, and alert us at once.

"You're the best man for the job, Jim. I wish you luck. Starfleet out."

Kirk leaned back in his chair. "Well, that doesn't help much. Any ideas?"

Uhura shook her head, but Scotty nodded. "Aye. I wish McCoy were here- he'd have something to say."

A flicker of regret crossed their captain's face. "Me too, but unfortunately, he is not. Uhura, play the second."

A few more clicks, then the computer spoke again, this time in a different voice-

"Captain Kirk, this is Admiral Fletcher. I am here to inform you that your orders regarding Planet Theron has been changed. You are to proceed your investigation of the economy, but do not delve further into their business. This is of utmost importance- I repeat, do not raise suspicion by meddling in affairs beyond your mission. Starfleet out."

The four stared at each other. "I do wonder what goes through their minds sometimes." Kirk said. "But, then again, I'm just the messenger- I can't disregard them."

"That hasn't stopped you before," Uhura muttered, clearly referring to the Nero incident. Kirk ignored her. "So, let's get this straight- Starfleet wants us to keep an eye on Theron's inhabitants, but to not take any action. McCoy's stranded on Theta Six, none the wiser to our problem. We're stuck in the middle of a very vicious ping-pong game, with victory for either side riding on our decisions. Thus, we have two options- play by the rules and, quite possibly, see Starfleet victorious- or, we can screw the rules and do things my way, and ensure Starfleet is victorious."

Spock wanted to protest, but then something McCoy said to him once stopped him –"That kid does not know how to lose. It's not in his DNA". A worm of doubt wriggled into his mind- Kirk had already proven that he was a true leader, and to doubt him know would be illogical.

"That depends on what you have in mind." Uhura had no such qualms about voicing her disagreement. "The whole thing could easily blow up in our faces- and we'd be the ones put on the chopping block. Personally, I'd rather not risk my career on a helter-skelter mission."

Kirk didn't seem surprised by her outburst. "Hey, just listen, alright? If you don't want to go along with it, I'll drop you off at a nearby station or something; I'm going to take full responsibility if it goes wrong anyways. I swear none of you will be punished." Leaning forward, his voice grew serious. "Ok, here's what we're gonna do…"

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So, what'd you think? Please push that shiny green button below, and you'll make me even happier!!


	3. Chapter 3

Hey! Chapter three here! Hope you enjoy it~

* * *

"I'll see you tomorrow, Bones." Lillian said, smiling, as she headed to her room.

McCoy watched her go, his face unreadable. The dinner was worth a repeat experience, yet he couldn't get the problem out of his mind. It had definitely dampened the mood- nothing like a life-threatening issue to kill the moment.

"Forget it," He sighed, going into his room. Staring at the white walls, he wished that he had something to hang up, or at least some paint to color the walls. He missed his old quarters. At least there he could relax while not working, unlike here, where he remained uptight and grouchy.

Showering, he relaxed in the water, letting the heat soak into him. All in all, he thought, the day wasn't so bad. Given time, he would get used to it, though he doubted he would like it as much as Starfleet wanted him too. His soul was still on the _Enterprise_, where it belonged- he only hoped he could get back to it in time before he lost it completely.

Throwing on a bathrobe, he went over to the small computer that was provided to see what his current job was. Since he had skimmed over it that morning, he missed the finer details.

After reading, he realized it was pretty much the same work required of him on the _Enterprise._ Every week, he had to turn in a report over events, progress, and team productivity, as well as his team's individual reports. He could also transfer team members, request others to join his team, or switch studies (He had no desire to do any of these). So long as he listened to his division leader's orders and turned in his reports, he had it relatively easy.

_I wonder if I could recommend people for promotion,_ He wondered. Already he had seen several dedicated, hard-working researchers who deserved a break. Deciding he would provide breakfast for everyone at a later date should they continue their current work ethic (at least generated food didn't require effort to make), he changed into his sleepwear and quickly fell into a light, if not restless, sleep.

_Pale skin, shallow breaths, bloodshot eyes- as he raised a shaking hand to cradle the small body to him, his heart bled in sorrow. He shouldn't be seeing this. This shouldn't be happening. She still had so much life ahead of her- her whole life- and she shouldn't be dying._

_In the room next door, Trisha was sobbing. She had been doing that a lot lately- his eyes had remained dry. No matter what, he couldn't bring himself to cry… why couldn't he show compassion? This wasn't just some random patient who he was operating on. No, this was his daughter… his tiny, frail, six-month-old daughter, who was dying because he couldn't save her._

_Why couldn't he cry?_

////////////////////////////////

Lillian wasn't expecting to be up so early, but then again, it wasn't the first time it had happened. Ever since Janna had disappeared after being Chosen, she hadn't been sleeping well. Her best friend, gone, just like that… the sweetest, smartest, most inventive person she had ever known, gone. She couldn't get her scared, shocked look out of her mind when Janna received that letter… fists tightening, she took a breath. "Calm down." She muttered. "There's nothing you can do. You failed to hear her warning the first time- but now you can do something."

As she tugged on her white lab coat over the required blue-and-silver outfit, she had to wonder if she was right to include Doctor McCoy- Bones, she reminded herself- in her private crusade. He had struck her as a guy who would do anything to protect those he cared for and anyone who was mistreated, but first appearances had blinded her before. She had wound up in this place because of that- trusting another person to take care of her, when all they were concerned about was their personal gain. Scowling, she tugged harshly on her hair to get it into a messy side-bun and checked the time.

Thirty minutes till she had to report, the clock told her, glaring at her with red eyes. Frowning, she slowed down in her morning process, taking more time than necessary to check her files, review the previous day's work, and feed her pet tribble, Juniper. The fuzzy cream-colored animal purred as she poured in the grain- wiggling over to its breakfast, it promptly began eating. Knowing the amount would keep it satisfied for the rest of the day, Lillian left to get her own breakfast.

As she mechanically ate her oatmeal, she noticed her new boss stumble into the cafeteria, looking the worse for wear. She could tell he hadn't slept a wink- after all, she had that same exact look for a while after Janna disappeared.

Waving him over to the table she was at, she winced as he almost tripped over the chair. "I take it you had a rough night?" She asked.

He nodded. "It was too quiet. I'm used to the sound of the engines and whatnot; can't believe I'd actually miss the things. Damn it, Scotty's gotten to me again." As he struggled to prevent a yawn, she asked, "Who's Scotty?"

"The chief engineer; He's always prattling about something-or-other that the _Enterprise_ is capable of. He's married to the ship, that's for sure. Doesn't take a genius to figure that out," He snorted. After a pause, he said, "He does have a point though. Everyone who serves aboard the _Enterprise_ falls for it in one way or another. If I didn't know any better, I'd swear it's a living organism."

"You must really miss it," She said softly.

"Yeah. I really do," He replied, staring at his plate. Suddenly he wasn't hungry. Forcing himself to take another bite, he said, "You don't look to good yourself."

Lillian shrugged. "Woke up too early, that's all. It'll wear off by noon."

McCoy raised an eyebrow, but didn't bother responding. Lillian had her secrets, just like he had his. For all his sarcasm and apparent unfeeling exterior, he knew when not to pry into someone's personal life. Changing the subject, he asked, "How are your experiments going?"

"No results. I've already been through half my section, and nothing."

"What are you testing for, anyway?"

"The cause of mental underdevelopment in Andorians. It doesn't help that their molecular structure is different from ours- even though they are carbon-based life forms like us, their DNA is more complicated. There is twice as many pairings, and the coding is longer. Forget the rule that governs our bonding in DNA- theirs is a mess. I swear, it amazes me that they can even exist."

As she complained, McCoy allowed himself to listen to her. It provided excellent distraction from last night's nightmare- a nightmare that had resurfaced sporadically ever since Nero had attacked.

Cutting her off after a while, he said, "We need to get to the lab. Need me to get your tray?"

"No-I've got it." She said, blinking. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bore you."

He shook his head. "Not at all. You have some interesting insight into the whole matter." He had especially liked it when she declared the whole system of Andorian anatomy could go to hell- he had uttered that phrase many times when studying Vulcan anatomy. Spock had only made some snide comment about how it was due to its complexity that others failed to kill him the first time. McCoy reluctantly agreed. If his heart wasn't where the liver was supposed to be, his liver somewhere around the kidney area and the kidneys in front of the heart, the stab wound he had gotten two months ago would have killed him. Luckily, the only thing the villain managed to puncture was muscle, so Spock had recovered without severe damage, though he had been walking around with bandages for quite some time.

Entering the lab, he noticed that, once again, he was the last person to enter besides Lillian. Wondering just how early they got up, he said, "Let's get to work. Reports are due in three days, so you'd better get cracking."

Dutifully, they did as they were told. Getting his own sample, McCoy began running tests on finding the cause of Vulcan Repression- or, in other words, the cause of just how they were able to stay so calm and collected. Though McCoy knew that they were just excellent at meditating and controlling themselves, it was one thing to try to tell the one responsible for the initial order and another to actually hand in a gigantic stack of negative results. He was rather looking forward to bombarding someone with paperwork.

Working diligently, he stopped every hour and a half to take a quick work around the lab to see the progress of his team. Sometimes he made corrections and gave help, but mostly he walked by without a word. The only sound besides his footsteps was the whirring of machines- if he concentrated hard enough, he could pretend they were the _Enterprise_'s engines for a few seconds.

After checking on the fifteen or so people who were in the room, he returned to his station, staring at the vial in his hands. To think he held part of the very coding that made Vulcans the way they were- it unnerved yet excited him. So much could go wrong, yet so much could go right. The possibilities were endless.

Shaking himself from his reverie, he put the vial in the machine, watching as it went to work. Within seconds the entire code was written before his eyes, and he had to scoff at the idea that, once, this was hand-written. He proceeded to continue the tests.

After mind-numbing repetition, McCoy stumbled out of the lab to catch dinner. Once again he missed lunch- perhaps he should have brought a sandwich along with him. Going to the cafeteria, he noticed Lillian fell into step beside him.

"How'd it go?" she asked.

"Same. No result. You?"

"Nothing. I'm starting to think they want to bore us," She said. Yawning, Lillian gave a half-hearted wave to another researcher who passed them in the hall. "Can you tell me more of your starship over dinner? I'll need to know all there is to know for when I win our bet."

"Don't get cocky just yet," He growled. "It's only been two days since I've been here."

She grinned. "Two days or two weeks, it doesn't matter. I'm going to win."

Grumbling, he followed her into the cafeteria. Selecting steak and beans, he inhaled the aroma before joining Lillian at the table they had occupied the day before. "So, what do you want to know?"

"Everything. What's the Captain like? The first officer? Who's your best friend? How many people serve aboard it?" Her eyes were bright and eager, reminding him of a child at a zoo. She confused him- at times, she could be serious and focused, at others, childish and naïve. Leaning back in his chair, he knew it was going to be a long conversation.

"There are about 450 people aboard, though Jim- the Captain- would know the exact number. I know there are 89 people in medical alone, though that number fluctuates depending on the new members assigned to the station…"

She listened as he went on, his stories and descriptions fascinating her. Life aboard a starship was like a dream to her- pretty to imagine, but near impossible to reach.

It was near midnight when they finally stopped, realizing the time and yawning. "Where's your room?" McCoy asked, drowsy. He didn't want her to walk through the hallways at night- wait a minute. Why was he so concerned about that anyway?

"Building B-6," She said. "Right next door to yours."

"Hm. That's convenient. Mind if I walk you back, dear lady?" It didn't matter what the real initiative was, anyway- he had decided he liked spending time with her.

She grinned. "Not at all, kind sir."

They stepped outside, McCoy noticing that the planet's two moons lit up the night adequately enough for them to see. Firefly-like insects darted about, flashing among the coarse grass and pale, tightly closed flowers that inhabited the planet. Somewhere an owl hooted; a mouse squeaked in the bushes, darting for cover. It reminded him of the Academy gardens; sometimes he would take a stroll to clear his mind, or to find a new sleeping area when Jim had brought a bed partner back with him.

As they walked to Lillian's room, he asked, "So, this whole thing about the Choosing- who issues the command?"

The young intern frowned. "No one really knows. His name is Professor Hunter, but no one's ever seen him. He works in the Testing and Replications Lab part time, and is Commander Gordo's personal assistant the other. His lab is supposedly the most advanced, and only the best researchers work there. The 'Choosing' is supposedly the permission to join him, but… they are never seen again. No one even knows who his assistants are... Or where they are now."

This made him think. "Perhaps they're in a different building?"

"No- the only buildings with living quarters are A-6, B-6, and C-6; A is for team leaders, B for the helpers, and C for the Division leaders. I know everyone in my building, and none of them work for Hunter."

"Where is his lab?"

"Don't know. I think it's either under the facilities or connected to Gordo's wing, but I'm not for sure." Laughing a little, she said, "It's not as if I have blueprints for this place."

McCoy wished the_ Enterprise_ was still in orbit. He could have easily called up to the ship, requesting that the scanners be used to detect underground stations- but the _Enterprise_ and her crew were light-years away, heading to an unknown planet. Frustration boiled within him- never before had he felt so useless, so unequipped. He hadn't realized how much he had relied on his medical staff and Kirk to get the things he needed, but now he did. He wasn't just stranded- he was inept as well.

"I wish I could help you more, but right now, I can't." He said at last as her building came into view. "Right now, all I can hope for is that none of us will get chosen any time soon, and that I will be able to get on my superior's good side to find out what the hell is going on here."

She smiled, a tinge of sadness in the gesture. "I realize that. Thank you for helping, though- I feel more confident with you."

Slightly struck by her comment, yet a little smug, he replied, "I'll do the best I can."

They stopped in front of her door. Smiling, she said, "Good night, Bones. See you tomorrow."

"Yeah. See you tomorrow," He replied, watching as she entered her room. Glancing in, he noticed she, at least, had some color- a red comforter, a cage that held something he couldn't quite see, several portraits on the walls. He nodded at her as the door closed.

Sighing, he turned to go to his own room. The night suddenly didn't seem as friendly as it had before.

////////////////////////

"Spock to Captain Kirk."

The Vulcan's voice cut through the quiet of his room as he stared at the wall. They had reached Theron at approximately two o'clock in the morning Earth time and had to wait for the President to call them. Unable to go back to sleep, he had been in this state ever since, stuck somewhere between wakefulness and slumber.

Drowzily, he stumbled over to the intercom. "Kirk here. Did President Sopthern call?"

"Yes, sir. We are to meet with him in three hours."

"Noted. Kirk out." After ending communications, he pushed another button. "Kirk to sickbay."

"Chapel here, sir." The blonde nurse had recently joined McCoy's entourage, and as of yet had to deal with any major catastrophe. For now, she had been stuck with menial tasks. Yawning, Kirk said, "With McCoy temporarily reassigned, who has taken his place?"

There was a pause; then she replied, "Lieutenant Alandria Stephenson, sir."

"Patch her through to me."

The nurse complied, and soon a female voice came over. "Stephenson."

"Lieutenant, do you have anything that will stimulate me? I'm afraid I didn't get much sleep last night."

There was a pause. "I have some pills that will work, sir. They will work within the half hour- if I recall, they last for about twelve hours. If you need, I can provide a stronger dosage."

That made him wince; he had experience with 'stronger dosages' before, and he had been awake for three days straight. It probably had to deal with McCoy's personal revenge after that whole drink-swapping ordeal, but he wasn't ready to risk it. "I'll take the pills. Have them ready by the time I get to sickbay."

Stumbling to his closet, he pulled out his uniform and donned it, taking a second to admire himself in the mirror. Even if the current CMO was temporary, it was better to make a good impression while he had the time.

Leaving his room, Kirk made his way down to sickbay, stifling his yawns. He really was looking forward to those pills. If he wasn't going to embarrass himself, he needed them.

The new chief medical officer was waiting. At first, all Kirk saw of her was another potential fling- she was attractive. Her long, wavy chocolate hair reached to her thighs, her blue eyes the only bit of Earth sky in space. Her slim figure also proved to be the exact height as him- and her face was perfectly smooth. He was moonstruck.

Until she began speaking.

"Here are your pills, Captain. I'd advise you to take one now, so that you will be alert throughout the formalities with the President. Take another during lunch so that you can ensure your exhaustion does not show itself in any way. When you return, I firmly recommend that you relook your night shift schedule. Staying up for three days straight is not a healthy way to command, even for someone like you."

Frowning, Kirk thought, _her beauty hides her thorns. _"Doctor, may I ask how potent these things are? I don't want to make a fool of myself."

She raised her eyebrows. "I ensure you that, if you do show your true nature, it will be entirely your fault."

He grinned cheekily. So she did have some humor. "And what, pray, is my true nature?"

She was spared an answer when a cadet reported for his physical. Nodding briskly, Doctor Stephenson ushered him to another room. "Captain, I believe you are wanted on the bridge." She called before following her patient in. Kirk sighed. It wasn't often that he was beaten at his own game, but then again, he never backed down from a challenge. Swallowing the pill she had given him, he made a face- the taste was nasty.

After spending the rest of his time struggling into his dress uniform, complaining to anyone who would listen about said uniform, and deciding on a landing party (Spock, Uhura, and Scotty, all of whom were experts in the areas they were ordered to investigate), he finally found himself in the transporter room, ready to beam down onto a planet where everything could go right, or everything could go wrong.

"Energize."

As he felt his body being rearranged, one final thought crossed his mind- _I hope I'm right.

* * *

_

So, what'd you think? Push that pretty green button below to let me know~......wow, I totally didn't mean to rhyme, but oh well xD


	4. Chapter 4

Hey, I'm back from a week vacation in Florida with a tan, lighter hair, and a newly completed chapter!! :D How good is that?

Well, read and enjoy. Mostly with Kirk and Co. on this chapter, but McCoy managed to squeeze in at the last second ^^

* * *

The first thing Kirk noticed when he was able to control himself was that the welcoming committee was impressive.

Several officials were gathered around, staring expectantly and somewhat fascinated. The President was in front, idly waving a fan to ward off the heat. Kirk didn't mind the weather- it beat the summers back in California.

"Captain, welcome to Theron!" He said once he realized they were alert. "It's a great honor having you here."

"Thank you for letting us come President." Kirk said, politely. "It's an honor to be here." Not really, he added silently, but what could you do in the line of duty?

As the President introduced the others, Spock discreetly took readings about the planet. It was definitely abnormal, considering the reports- miles and miles of unreported tunnels existed beneath them, and though he would have normally wrote it off as inconsequential, it was alarming in this situation. He knew that, somehow, he had to get down there to see what it was.

Kirk was speaking, and he stopped recording. "This is my first officer Spock, my chief engineer Scott, and my communications officer Uhura. I thought it best that they investigate their areas of studies so that we can better understand your culture and provide a more successful plan to help your economy and people."

President Sopthern inclined his head. "Your dedication is admirable, and I deeply appreciate your concern. If you'd like, we can start the procedures immediately."

Kirk nodded, leaving with the President to discuss the improvement of trading, alliances, and the like. Spock, who was in charge of the research facilities, left with his tour guide; Uhura, who was in charge of education and lifestyle, left to see the city; and Scott, who was to tour the engineering facilities, followed his guide, talking avidly with him. Though they seemed interested in what they were supposed to inspect, each had separate tasks that had nothing to do with their cover. Kirk's orders were clear- they had to follow.

As Spock entered the research facility, he immediately noticed the lack of personnel and equipment. The area was spacious, but there wasn't much action- the people who worked there seemed to be working productively, but the amount of equipment was insufficient to do the work that the report of Theron indicated. It was, supposedly, a society based on research- so why wasn't their research facilities more up to par?

An even more troubling matter was presented when he saw a glimpse of large, empty rooms. He was hastily diverted from them, of course, but his eyesight was greater than those of the Therons. Concerned, he made sure to pay close attention to what everyone was doing, as well as ask questions on the work being done. He had wanted to talk to the workers, but his request was graciously denied.

After spending as much time as possible exploring the facility, taking discreet readings, and making mental notes based on his observations and data, he was finally taken back to the President's house, a sprawling building housing several compounds for his officers and confidents. It also contained a private museum, according to his tour guide. Spock, finding it highly unnecessary, wasn't impressed.

"You'll have to excuse the interruption of the tour," The guide said. "Unfortunately, our time has been cut short, so we will have to wait until tomorrow to tour the remainder."

"That is understandable." Spock said. "I am impressed by your research facilities nevertheless."

The man bowed.

As they walked back into the main meeting hall, Spock noticed Kirk and Uhura were already back. Scotty, understandably, was running late. The engineer would probably be some time in coming.

Greeting his girlfriend, he sent a glance at Kirk- the young Captain gave a slight nod in response. So, his area wasn't the only one that was suspicious. Even Uhura's confirmatory inclination further increased his unease.

They were kept waiting two hours until Scott arrived, smiling though not necessarily bright-eyed with excitement. Kirk, who had been in discussion with the President, noticed his arrival. "How'd it go, Scotty?" He asked.

"Well, Captain. There are a few things I intend to think over tonight," He replied.

Kirk nodded, and then turned to the President. "Now that we're all back, sir, I must return. I'll be sure to beam down with a medical officer tomorrow. It's regretful that we could not complete our tours and investigation. I'll be sure to bring our plans as well."

President Sopthern nodded. "Perfectly alright. Good day, Captain Kirk."

"And you, President." He flipped open his communicator. "Kirk to Enterprise-Beam us up."

///////////////////

They headed straight to the briefing room after materializing on the ship, their diplomatic faces fading to concern, anxiety, and apprehension (And, in Kirk's case, a mix of all three and then some). Sitting down, he looked at Spock. "What did you find out?"

The Vulcan uploaded his tricorder readings into the ship's computer, displaying the results on the screen. "A myriad of tunnels and rooms underground were revealed when I ran the initial scan, which is a cause of concern, for there are no mentions of these in the previous reports. I have yet to determine what they are for- I could not run a thorough enough scan to see if there were any life forms in them. They were especially clustered under the research building and the President's building. The logical assumption is that they have underground research facilities, but I have yet to determine what they are for.

"I am also concerned about the state of the research building. Their economy is primarily researching and developing medicines, enhancers, and vitamins, as well as agriculture. According to my guide, they are experimenting with fertilizer, but their availability of technology and attendants are noticeably lacking. The amount that I have seen does not indicate they can keep up with their supposed demand, nor their progress."

"Aye; I noted that too," Scotty cut in. "Their engineering departments aren't the main focus, but even that's under-populated with both people and machinery. I didn't comment, but I think my guide noticed I had something on my mind."

"Maybe they're getting help from an outside source," Uhura offered.

Kirk nodded, thoughtful. "That was my impression, but the President failed to mention anything along those lines in our discussion. It may very well be that there may be a group working underneath the radar, or that the natives prefer underground complexes for more intensive research."

"I highly doubt that," Scotty said.

"Yeah, me too," Kirk paused, and then said, "Uhura? What about you?"

The Communications officer shrugged. "What's there to say? The inhabitants are quite amiable, though the young children are shy. They seem to value honesty and trustworthiness, and their education is right on track for their current development level. I've been working on a formula for their language; though they speak standard, I am trying to upgrade our universal translator so that we can include theirs as well."

Kirk grinned. "Wonderful. Uhura, you need to get them to trust you, and begin to ask subtle questions about what's going on there. Spock, I want you to run a complete check on the history, who they have contacted, who has contacted them, etc. Report anything you find unusual. Scotty, feel free to share information with the head of engineering on the world- do the same as Uhura. I'm going to beam down with Doctor Stephenson tomorrow so she can investigate the Medical facilities while I finish up my discussion with the President. Any questions?"

"Aye; what can we do to get in those tunnels Spock mentioned?" Scotty asked.

"I'm working on that." Kirk sighed. "Let's keep it low-key for now. Unless someone wanders in 'accidentally', we'll avoid it."

Uhura glanced at Spock; the Vulcan looked at Scotty. Blinking, the engineer said, "'Ey now, Lad, I'm not goin' on some stroll through unknown tunnels! I'll be staying right here."

"Mr. Scott," Spock replied, "You, out of all of us, will be the most likely to accidentally wind up down there. Given your… inquisitive nature, you will merely want to see each bit of equipment, and instead go into an area that you are not supposed to know about. Since you do not know the rules, you cannot break them. And, given your officer status, they dare not harm you."

"But…!"

"Scotty, think about it. All you need to do is slip in, fumble around a bit, then report back. It isn't going to be hard," Kirk said. "It's an easy task, and one I only trust you in completing."

Flattery was the right course. Scotty hesitated, and then nodded. "Alright, I'll do it."

"Wonderful. Class dismissed."

Spock joined Kirk as he headed to the bridge. "Sir, I do not doubt Mr. Scott's loyalty, but his expertise lies in Engineering, not espionage."

"Don't worry about it, Spock. Scotty'll do just fine," Kirk replied, smiling. "Besides, if he doesn't get to have a part in this little drama, I'll never hear the end of it."

/////////////////////////

"With all due respect, sir, I doubt that bringing food into the laboratory will be the safest thing." Lillian commented upon entering.

From his plate of fruit, bread, and sealed containers of sandwiches, McCoy raised an eyebrow. "It's perfectly sanitary, and the machine does the work anyway. All I do is sit back and watch."

She studied the food. "Is this for lunch?"

"Yeah; want some later?" He asked, already preparing his sample.

Lillian smiled. "Sure. Thanks."

"No problem."

As his workers filed in the room (He had finally beaten them in; turns out, they were always in the room at exactly 0600. He had previously been arriving around 0630 or so- even though it wasn't supposed to start until 0700, he figured that if they started early, they got off early. So far, he had yet to announce that mindset to the rest), he began updating them on progress, saying what needed to be done, etc. It didn't take long; they were perfectly on schedule. When finished, he watched them get to work- silent, grim, and concentrated. He frowned. Something needed to be done about their mindset. Until he could figure out how to change it, though, he had to work.

Placing his sample in the machine, he decided to see how it would react with different medications. Injecting a sample of altered RNA into the vial, he watched as, quite utterly, the DNA unraveled at an alarming rate. Startled, he checked the two items- the DNA was of Andorians, the RNA as well; frowning, he puzzled over the codes, wondering how the two could have violently reacted like that.

After going through the chemistry three times, checking his work, re-calculating, and figuring out the basic elements, he discovered that the altered RNA had an unknown compound attached to each end. He had never heard of it, nor knew it existed; taking the RNA to a different machine, he decided that he would attempt to isolate it.

At first, the bond refused to break- adding more and more power to the sample, McCoy finally sighed in relief when, in a rather impressive molecular fireworks display, the bond broke. Quickly tapping on the machine to isolate the free compounds, he ran full tests to see what it was made up of- the results startled him. Turning to Lillian, he gestured her to come over. "What do you think of this?" He asked.

She looked at the readout. "Guanine, Thymine, Cytosine… why, it's exactly like human DNA! What's it doing in Andorian RNA?"

"I don't know. But that's not all. Look," He pointed to another part of the chain, "There's also a trace of a protein complex known to be poisonous to Andorians. Whoever made this one up must have really been out of their minds."

Lillian nodded. "Causing the DNA to rupture like that… do you think there are more of these in storage?"

Grimly, he said, "I don't know. But given this demonstration, I'm afraid there are." He destroyed the extra compounds, and then withdrew the newly functional Andorian RNA. "I need to make a note of this for my report. Lillian," He turned to her, "I need you to find and record every faulty 'improvement' to whatever it is you're studying. This needs to be fixed before it gets worse."

She nodded. "Of course. Do you think… do you think this was intentionally made?"

He hesitated. "It seemed the person in question put forth a lot of effort to do this. But I can't believe that someone meant harm by it."

Troubled, Lillian returned to her station to continue testing.

McCoy stared at the vial in his hands. It was hard to believe something so small could have done so much destruction- shaking himself, he turned to grab another vial, when the open door caught his attention.

Annoyed, he went over to the man hovering in the doorway. "What's your business?" He growled. "I'd prefer my team not be distracted."

"Are you Doctor McCoy?" The man asked. His brown eyes were hard; apparently, he didn't take kindly to being ordered around.

"I am." He replied, crossing his arms.

The man nodded. "You need to come with me. Your division leader has something to say."

McCoy hesitated. That didn't sound good. Finally, he turned, and looking around the room, said, "Gregory, look after things while I'm gone. Make sure everyone stays on task."

"Leave it to me, sir," Gregory said, slightly surprised.

As McCoy left, he thought he saw Lillian worriedly watching him leave. He tried a confident expression, but wasn't sure if it worked- after all, he was terribly nervous inside.

The man led him down the hallway a short distance, stopping outside a rather nondescript grey steel door. Pressing a button, there was the faint sound of a buzzer; then the door slid open, and McCoy found himself looking into an office that matched the exterior hallway.

To his surprise, the division leader was female; but that was all that she had going for her. Her face reminded him of a lizard; her hair, which was mud-brown, was thin and looked as if her hairdresser had cut it while intoxicated.

"Thank you. You may leave." She said. Even her voice was dry and raspy.

The man nodded, leaving instantly. McCoy, who was feeling somewhat better, stared at her in mild amusement.

"McCoy," she began, "I suppose I must welcome you to Theta Six. It is unfortunate I could not see you sooner, but I was quite busy. Now, however, we can talk."

She continued without letting him get a word in. "As you very well know, we take our work seriously. I expect you to do your job with the utmost care, and detail your report very well. Starfleet has assured me you're very well suited for this, and I expect you to prove their words. I have high expectations for you and for you to fail will greatly displease me. I do not like to be displeased."

_She's threatening me,_ he thought. _What a wonderful way to greet a newcomer._

As she continued, he blocked out her voice and discreetly looked about the room. Her desk only held a computer terminal, a padd, and a stylus; a clock ticked from somewhere behind him, and a small bookshelf with books was to his right. A nameplate on the table identified her- Professor Brigid Waters. He had to restrain himself from snickering.

Professor Waters drone on, and though he tried to keep a blank expression, something must have tipped her off for she said, "You have something to say?"

_Finally,_ he thought, and replied, "I am interested in what you have to say, ma'am, but if I don't return to my lab soon, I don't know how I'm going to catch up in my experiments."

Waters studied him. "Very well. You are dismissed. I am looking forward to that report, Doctor McCoy."

"I wouldn't doubt it," he said. "Good day, Professor."

He left before she could decide to say more.

Going back down the nearly empty hallways, he noticed that many laboratories were vacant- several machines were missing. Most likely the teams located there had been reduced by the Choosing- and then dispersed to other areas. Some of his team could have been the product of that; But how many, and why didn't they get Chosen?

Shaking his head, he entered his lab. He could wonder about it later. "Gregory, did anything happen while I was gone?"

"No, sir. Everything occurred to your expectation," He replied. McCoy had to raise an eyebrow at that. "Oh? And what is that? If I recall, I didn't really say what I wanted you to do, I just cared that you got the job done."

"Then… we did that." Gregory stuttered.

McCoy sighed. "We really need to work on your skills. If we're going to work together, we're going to need to get along. Listen up!" He called.

All the heads swiveled toward him in one collective movement. "Ok. I realize that here, people are strict. Hell, my division leader creeps me out- she's part lizard, I swear. But just because they are doesn't mean that we can't have some sort of fun doing this. Back on my starship, the Captain knew everyone by name and rank- we were all a family. I realize that I can't know everyone in this place, but the least I can do is make an effort to know everyone here, and have you all know each other as well. From now on, I require that you talk to each other and get to know them; I'll be furthering this effort by ordering you to include a separate report of the people you talked to, what their names were, and five facts about them. You will continue to do so until you talk to everyone; after that, we'll take it another step further. I won't tell my superiors about this; it'll be our little secret. Understood?"

Uncertain nods; from the back, Lillian looked on in approval. He had to hide a smile from that. "Alright, meeting adjourned. Get back to work- and I want you to talk!"

His request was followed by a soft, hesitant murmur among the group. Satisfied, he returned to his station, where Lillian clapped. "Well done, sir. You get a gold star."

"Spare me the flattery. I needed some familiar noises to ward off the chill Professor Waters gave me," he replied.

Lillian nodded. "Yeah, she gave me the creeps too, though it's nothing compared to my old team leader. He…" She paused. "He liked the ladies."

"Oh." He shifted awkwardly. "Did he…?"

"He was Chosen before he could," she answered. McCoy nodded, somewhat relieved. "I don't know whether to pity him or not."

"Be neither," She said with venom. "He doesn't deserve any of it."

Not expecting the violent side of Lillian to show, McCoy could only stare in open surprise. She blushed. "Sorry. I don't like talking about my past."

"No…it's ok. Everyone has secrets," He said, then turned back to his equipment.

Even though he tried, he could not shake the feeling that, somehow, Lillian was holding back more than he could possibly know.

* * *

So, what'd you think? Push that pretty green button and let me know~


	5. Chapter 5

*gasp* It's an update! Who saw that coming?!

In an apology for the long wait, I made this one longer- as in, about 1000 words longer. And we get some random fluffiness between Lily and Bones, as well as a proper introduction to the heroine in Kirk's story.

So, as you are all eager to read, I'll postpone my comments until after the chapter is over. Enjoy~

* * *

Lillian was interesting to watch when she concentrated.

Watching her from the corner of his eye, he noticed that her facial expressions changed quickly and rapidly as she poured over results and tests, sometimes showing frustration, triumph, disgust, alarm, amazement, and a multitude of others he couldn't catch. Accompanying the expressions were subtle movements from various sources- her tongue poked out of the corner of her mouth when she was solving a problem, her foot tapped softly when she was awaiting a machine's readout, her nostrils flared briefly when results weren't satisfactory. Luckily she didn't do the infuriatingly annoying pencil tap- even with the quiet whirr of the machines it would still be heard. He had a lab partner who did that during his days at Med School, and he nearly wanted to strangle him at the end of the classes. He had learned some meager self-control, however, and resisted- but nevertheless that didn't stop him from daydreaming about it.

Absently he went over the chemistry of the strand he was currently investigating, wondering if the machine's replica of the rest of the body was accurate. Since he was working with virtually the smallest item within the body, even the smallest deviation from the original host's body would have a large effect. If not, he could very well be getting false readings. Rubbing the spot where his wedding ring used to be, he wrote down a few possibilities- since this treatment didn't work completely, combining it with this one or using a different one altogether could help gain the result he wanted- producing more antibiotics to make the Andorians more immune to common illnesses; he had exhausted the idea of a special adaptation that made Vulcans so in control, and was rather pleased to know that by handing in a report with multitude negative results and no evidence whatsoever that would allow the person to argue against him, whoever had issued the order was likely being reprimanded and tossed over to the Vulcans themselves to give a logical lesson on the way the meditation worked. However, he added a small note that explained that the Medulla Oblongata-like organ that the Vulcans had was a tad bit smaller than humans and Romulans, but it wouldn't affect their control overall.

Spock would be proud of him, in a way. Ever since he and Uhura became an item, he had developed a side that enjoyed making others look like complete idiots. Not that he'd ever admit to it, mind- but McCoy wasn't so blind as to see the glimmer of amusement in the Science Officers eyes whenever Jim slipped up or he won an argument. Grudgingly, McCoy realized that he only did it when the two of them were arguing- somehow, he knew Spock got a perverse pleasure in proving the doctor wrong. _He's going to pay for that during his next physical,_ he thought savagely as he punched in the commands for the machine.

He didn't dare think of what would happen should he not return.

McCoy was walking around during one of his half-hour breaks when a more seasoned researcher- Arram Draper, he remembered- called for him. "Sir," he said, black eyes bleak, "You need to see this."

Shakily, the man replayed the test- McCoy swore when he saw what happened. According to the machine, horrible mutation would erupt within a year of the drug, which was only a pain inhibitor. "What's in this?" He demanded.

"I…I don't know, sir." The man said. "I only just found out- what are those in the R&D section thinking?! They should have detected this!"

"There are not enough of them anymore," The young woman to his right remarked quietly. "All of them were nearly wiped out last year from the Choosing."

Everyone within earshot shuddered. "God," McCoy murmured, rubbing his temples. "What's wrong with this place?" No one dared answer- an uncomfortable silence followed. Sighing, McCoy reassured Draper. "I'll make sure to send a formal complaint to the division leader within the week. I won't mention any names," the alarm in Draper's eyes faded, "but this is getting ridiculous. It needs to stop, whatever this is." For a moment he wondered if, perhaps, he wasn't supposed to know about this- or if he, and all of his team, was being tested. Deciding to dwell on it later- he could feel a migraine coming on- he returned to his station.

McCoy was relieved when the shift ended and he was free to go to the cafeteria. Despite the strange experimentations with more of the destructive drugs, his encounter with Professor Waters, and the eeriness of the empty laboratories, he thought the day had gone quite well. His team was more talkative, he had learned a bit more about Lily, and he was able to eat. Not bad, for a man still adjusting to a stationary work environment.

He and Lily selected a remote corner, away from the other researchers so as to not be overheard. "It makes me wonder how Starfleet hasn't noticed the numbers have been dwindling," He admitted once they were comfortable. "All those empty rooms are cause for suspicion."

"Starfleet rarely comes out here, and when we do get contact with new faces, it's only for refilling our supplies," She explained. "No one goes inside the labs, anyway- Starfleet officials only pass the active rooms to get to Gordo's office. We're only a minor research station, so not much attention is given to us."

He poked at his pizza. "Gordo must be very good at manipulating those in higher ranks or standings. That could pose a problem- if he has powerful friends, I'm afraid we'll be turned into the bad guys."

"But you're Captain Kirk's best friend," Lily pointed out. "You were on the crew that destroyed Nero, and you saved hundreds of lives under conditions that would make anyone else pass out from the strain and exhaustion. You're a hero in your own right, too- someone Gordo will want on his side." She added. McCoy started slightly. "You may have a point there," He said. "This just keeps getting more and more unsteady."

"Just be on your guard," She warned. "He may try to bribe you over to your side."

McCoy leaned back, eyes dark with an unfathomable expression. "My dear, what is so bad about bribing? I'll welcome it."

Outraged, Lily began to splutter out a response- then she noticed that faint smile he held. "Oh." She said, and then repeated it. "Oh."

"Exactly. Who else will know better about the happenings than the head man himself?" He said. "If I get on Gordo's good side, he'll spill his secrets with time. I may even get to meet this enigmatic Hunter."

She beamed at him. "If anyone can do it, you can."

Her words stroked his ego, but he refrained from continuing the topic at hand. Casting about in his mind for another one, he remembered a conversation he and Jim had a few months back- they had just returned from the planet they had dubbed Phi Chi Zeta (Spock had named it; Kirk had given it a private nickname, Amanda, which he had included in the report. Spock had made no comment when he heard about it much later), which had a rich supply of dilithium crystals and unusual plants that had, upon contact with humanoid flesh, turned colors depending upon the mood of the person. They were more accurate than any mood ring or necklace he had never known, and he was quite amused to see that when Spock had touched one, it had instantly turned a violent shade of yellow- which had, after several tests, proved to be extreme happiness. Earlier that day, McCoy had seen him exit Uhura's room- apparently, whatever had transpired there hadn't left the Vulcan completely.

It had caused McCoy and Jim to discuss whether the plants could be harvested for jewelry or other forms of accessory. They certainly seemed sturdy enough, and seemed to absorb moisture, nutrients, and sunlight from their petals, their roots merely providing anchorage. Their biological makeup had been too complicated for even his state-of-the-art machinery to decipher.

After some discussion, however, it was left in the hands of Starfleet. They had to meet up with Space Station Delphi for a few minor repairs, pick up new crewmembers, and to restock, and the officials at headquarters were more than happy to put together a research team to figure out where the plants could live and how they reproduced.

"How much do you like jewelry?" He asked, deciding to approach it from a sideways angle; coming out suddenly could startle her.

"A little, I guess. I like rings and the occasional necklace, but nothing too gaudy. Why?"

He smiled. "I have a little something from one of my past experiences you might like. Want to come by after dinner to take a look?"

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "This isn't a complicated plan to get me to share your bed, is it?" She demanded, and upon seeing his shocked and hurt expression immediately felt guilty. "Sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

_Well, that killed the mood,_ he thought sourly. "No. You can stay outside the building if you want." He hadn't meant to be curt, but her accusation had hurt him. She seemed to realize this, for she apologized profusely, but the damage had been done. He didn't stop to wonder why he was so affected by the statement, instead standing up and depositing his dinner. "Shall we?" He asked, letting her take the lead.

The trip was short, something he was grateful for, since it shortened the awkward silence. At least Lily tried to make it up to him by stopping outside his door- opening it, he once again cursed silently at the blandness and dug about his unpacked bags- finally finding the slightly squashed box, he checked to see if its contents were still intact before returning to the pretty intern.

"We found a planet with unusual flowers a while back," he explained. "Each member of the crew received the first successful batch of jewelry made from them- I hung on to it, if only to remind myself of the experience."

She opened the box to see a beautifully small and delicate flower on a silver chain, colors flickering over the surface as she watched. Eyes wide, she gently caressed it, nearly dropping it out of surprise as it changed into a milky blue.

"Awe," he said. "Fitting, I suppose. The flower changes colors depending on your mood, and is far more accurate than anything else you would get for it. I had a color chart somewhere, but I think I lost it. I'll write one up later if you want."

Tears prickled at her eyes. "Bones, this is beautiful!" She breathed. "Thank you- you don't know how grateful I am."

Embarrassed, he clasped his hands behind his back. "You're welcome. Glad you like it." He didn't know what possessed him to give it to her, but he was happy he had. Seeing her attempting to put it on, he moved behind her. "Here, let me help," He said, gently taking the chain in his own hands. Her hands sliding against his, she moved her hair aside – she had taken the bun down shortly before dinner, as it was falling anyways- so he could see the clasp better. Somehow, this simple and innocent gesture made him light-headed. Fumbling over the clasp, he couldn't help but notice how soft her skin felt, not that he was intentionally brushing against it, of course.

Finally done, he stepped back, abruptly bringing his hands behind his back again, more to hide their shaking then anything. Lily dropped her hair, and then turned to let him admire her new accessory. It had turned a very interesting shade of dark red; he couldn't quite place that particular color. "It was made for you," He said finally, noticing her expectant look.

Honey-colored streaks shot through the petals as she smiled. "Thank you, again. I'll wear it every day." She picked it up to admire it for a moment, and then darted closer to kiss him on the cheek. "Goodnight," she whispered, then rapidly disappeared down the hallway.

McCoy had lost all function of his limbs; he only stood in surprise for a few seconds before he gained control of his voice. "Goodnight," he called after her, dazed. Somehow, he stumbled into his room, changed, and crashed onto his bed. A small part of him reminded his incoherent self that he had reports to finish- he banished it without a second thought, a small smile gracing his features.

That night, he dreamed of crystal flowers that changed colors, and of a certain blonde intern who was dancing gracefully amidst them.

////////////////////

Scotty found himself inside the engineering facility once more, this time more keen to his surroundings. Kirk's orders hadn't made much sense, but he was determined to carry them out to the letter. He respected the kid, for all that he was younger- his recklessness certainly made his life interesting, and besides, he would worship Kirk for all of his days for rescuing him from Delta Vega. That rock of ice was still in his nightmares- sure, he had put up with it while he was there, but once he was freed that place became an absolute living hell. Now, if the temperature on any planet was below sixty-five degrees Fahrenheit, he refused to go on the landing party. Kirk had eventually learned not to argue with him.

As he gazed around, he noticed several things that he had missed earlier- small details that indicated the facility wasn't exactly up to its bragging potential. At first glance, the machinery looked new and pristine, but after careful observation one would discover disturbances in the paint work that indicated rust lying underneath, small cracks that had been covered with a temporary cover, and bolts, screws, and similar items that had clearly seen better days. He was actually amazed that he hadn't seen it earlier- if this was the _Enterprise_, he would be bashing a few heads by now. This repair work was downright sloppy.

Yet he held his tongue. Kirk had make it clear that he was not to let on that he was noticing this stuff- to all intents and purposes, he really hadn't. It was more of an instinctual guidance that made him glance over the trouble spots, developed from years of working with a variety of machinery since the ripe age of three to the year he had spent on the _Enterprise_.

His eyes still discreetly darting about the room, he led his companion in relative silence, drifting slowly toward the strange rooms that he had been banned from earlier. His companion didn't seem to notice- he was a young lad, bright and eager to impress Scotty with his knowledge. He jabbered on, seemingly oblivious to his guest's tense shoulders.

Scotty had reached the prime spot to slip away not long after he entered- now he had to get rid of the kid. Looking for a good target, he walked innocently to a random piece of machinery. "I haven't seen this being used for production in years," he said, grateful that it was something he could interest his companion in. "But some parts are altered. What's this?"

"We changed it to suit our needs; it's now a successful power generator." The young Theronite said, proud that his charge had finally deemed him worthy to talk to. "See, this grate here channels the flow of power, and the outside keys give us a way to control the grate…" he became absorbed in the description, not noticing that Scotty had slowly begun to drift away.

"… and here's the conduit that, when activated, will divert the power should the internal regulator fail in any way. It's connected through a series of wiring and piping that…" abruptly he noticed he was alone. "Mister Scott?" he asked, puzzled. "Are you here?" Thinking he was investigating some more machinery, he trotted around, but couldn't find his red-garbed charge anywhere. He was heading back to the generator when he noticed that one of the sealed doors weren't right.

Concerned, the Theronite moved closer. He had never been to the Lower Levels yet- he was too young and too new. But he knew that nothing that went on down there was good. He didn't need anyone to tell him the warning- he got warning enough when those who ventured down there for various reasons never returned.

He was about to dismiss it when a flash of something caught his eye. Crouching, he noticed a small red thread, one that looked like Mister Scott's uniform- slowly, his eyes travelled up the crack between wall and door and noticed that it was partially open, indicating that whoever had gone down there didn't want to be locked out.

There was only one explanation.

Mister Scott had gone to the Lower Levels.

Horror filled the young engineer; spinning around, he raced back in the direction of the President's house, praying to his gods that he wouldn't be too late.

////////////////

The stairs weren't exactly what Scotty expected. He had intended them to just be another room to the building, but instead the deep, winding staircase had greeted him. He had hesitated briefly before going inside and closing the door behind him, leaving only the smallest of openings to ensure he wouldn't be locked in and to make it seem as if it was still closed at first glance. Hopefully he could poke about for a few minutes and return before the talkative kid had noticed he was gone.

It was a few moments later when Scotty realized that the staircase was longer than he thought. If his internal clock was anything to go by- not that he trusted it, mind – he had been walking down it for at least three minutes. Getting out his communicator, he turned the volume down before contacting the _Enterprise_. Slight panic bit into him when he only got static, but it was too late to return- he would have to do this on his own from here on out.

After a while he touched flat ground, a long hallway greeting him. It looked like a hospital more than anything- white walls, ceiling and floor with a blue stripe running down the middle, silver doors with numbers pinned up above a window. Cautiously, all his instincts screaming at him to turn tail and run, he approached the nearest door.

The paper clipped to the door announced the inhabitant simply as 'Herbakh, Yanesh', with a few words declaring that he was 'Number 36-Pm,L'. Feeling brave enough to look through the window, he immediately wished he hadn't when he saw a decrepit living corpse with suspicious bat-like appendages. Shuddering, Scotty turned to the next.

Though some rooms were empty, most of them were not- all hosted similar figures like the first, the only change being their name, number, and following letters- some declared that they were 'Pm,D', while others were 'Fm, D', 'Nm, L', or 'Nm, D'. Somehow, he knew that whatever had happened to these poor souls made it clear they wished to die rather than experience it again.

He was just about to turn back when a door somewhere down the hall opened. Panicking, Scotty shrank against the wall, wishing fervently that whoever was exiting the room wouldn't notice him. It seemed to be two humanoid figures, dressed in white lab coats, talking excitedly with one another. He managed to glimpse the final four symbols- 'Fm, L', the first one he had seen like that- before it began to swing shut again.

Scotty decided he had seen enough. Backing up slowly, he wheeled and ran back to the staircase, trying to step as lightly as possible. He didn't even realize how close to the wall he was until a door suddenly opened in front of him and he smashed into it, his vision exploding with stars and spots of different colors.

He vaguely remembered an older man with graying light brown hair standing over him with a dark expression before passing out.

/////////////////

Kirk hadn't really intended to run into Doctor Stephenson on the way to lunch, but seeing as how they were in the same turbolift together he figured it was only natural that he invited her to eat with him, under the excuse that he hadn't gotten to know her. He felt it was his personal obligation to the crew to get to know everyone- their name, birthday, who their parents were, etc. Though she hadn't looked terribly enthusiastic about the idea, she had accepted graciously enough. Kirk had to remind himself to not stare at her inappropriately lest he doom the conversation from the start.

After getting his meal, spending a few awkward moments picking a table ("Where do you want to sit?" "I don't know; it's your decision." "Well, I don't particularly care." "I don't, either."), and ignoring some amused whispers from his crew, he finally sat down at a table that was far enough away to not be overheard, yet close enough to everyone else to prevent rumors. "So, tell me about yourself. What do you like to do?"

She cocked her head for a moment, then said, "Well, I love horses, and have two of them at my mother's ranch. I also like to read, and hate the cold."

"Horses, huh?" He mused. "What is it with woman and horses?"

She gave a sarcastic little smile. "What is it with men and things that go fast?"

Kirk had to admit she had a point. Still, he liked horses; the fact that she owned some made him respect her some more. "I used to have a horse too, but had to leave it behind when I joined the Academy. He's probably still alive; that stubborn creature won't die." He chuckled. Spooning a bit of his food into his mouth, he waited until he swallowed to ask, "Why did you join medical?"

He hadn't expected for her eyes to get soft. "I've always known that I wanted to do it," she said. "Ever since I was little, I've wanted to help people. Becoming a doctor made me realize those dreams."

"But why Starfleet? You'll get more practice at a hospital on Earth. People are always finding crazy ways to visit doctors." Like bar fights every weekend, he thought fleetingly. Bones had more than enough practice with mending bones and bruises by patching up Jim, so that now he could do it in his sleep.

The doctor kept a neutral expression as she shrugged. "I was considering many different career paths, and Starfleet happened to be one of them. I got a full scholarship to the Academy, and decided that, even if I didn't go into active duty, it would be a good experience. I'm not the military type, but when Nero attacked…there just weren't enough people anymore."

Kirk smiled. "Well, I'm personally glad you're here. If not, I'd be out of a CMO for a while!"

They made small talk after that, and Kirk got the impression that she was testing him. Doctor Stephenson didn't seem to be the type of person that trusted easily- she wanted to know if Kirk was worth respecting. He played along. After all, he was testing her, too.

When lunch was over, he escorted her to sickbay, listening as she talked about her Academy years. He didn't find it surprising that she was a bookworm- he made a mental note to bring her on more landing parties, since it seemed she didn't get out much. Bones wouldn't mind- he hated the transporter more than he hated flying.

"Thanks for your time, Doctor," He said. "Maybe we can do it again sometime?"

She hesitated, and then nodded briefly. "I'll check my schedule. See you later, Captain." She entered sickbay, a nurse instantly grabbing her attention over some readout before the doors closed. Thoughtful, Kirk took a brief detour to his room, quickly downloaded Doctor Stephenson's portfolio onto a padd, and then headed back up to the bridge.

Doctor Stephenson had a rather impressive academic background. Straight-A student from elementary to her senior year in the Academy, Valedictorian more often than not, member of several honors and community service clubs- your typical cookie-cutter officer. However, what really got his attention was her personal background.

She had been raised in a semi-successful American farming family, until the age of seventeen- after a year or so of violent outbursts, her parents had gotten a divorce, leaving her torn between two parents. Only a year later her older brother died in a hovercar accident, with her being injured in the process as well. She had spent three months in the hospital, recovering from a severe concussion, several broken bones, and a punctured lung.

She had enrolled in a college several states away from both parents when she graduated high school, majoring in Radiology, with a minor in history. Initially, she had plans to accept a job in a rather prestigious hospital in upstate New York, but after her mother nearly died from a stroke, she went back home to help her recover.

She nursed her mother for a year and a half before she died, her father getting cancer three months later. She, too, helped him, until he died from a slow and painful death because he refused treatment. It was only after his funeral that she applied to Starfleet.

She had been accepted almost immediately, becoming a star student and community leader. When the Nero disaster struck, she had been stationed on the _Farragut_- she had three patients with her during evacuation, but a stray missile had struck her tiny pod, slaying two instantly and wounding the third beyond repair. It had been all she could do to save herself, and she had drifted for three days before a patrol found her. After that, she had been sent to a space station for a few months, until the _Enterprise _picked her up a few months later upon Bones' request.

Kirk sat the padd down, emitting a low whistle. Any normal person, when faced with that much tragedy, would be scarred for life- yet she had skillfully hidden it. If he hadn't dug up her portfolio, he never would have guessed that she had such a violent past. His respect for her had skyrocketed.

Uhura interrupted his thoughts. "Captain, I'm receiving a transmission from Theron."

"Put it on the screen," He said, moving the padd aside. Uhura complied, and soon President Sopthern was looking gravely at him.

"President, it's an honor to see you again. May I help you with anything?" Kirk asked, a polite smile on his face. Sopthern nodded. "I'm afraid there's a slight problem, Captain. I must request that I ask you to postpone your medical officer's tour."

Kirk still maintained a look of polite interest. "I'll be sure to alert Doctor Stephenson. Is that all?" His expression didn't betray his worry over Scotty- had the engineer been hurt in any way?

Sopthern sighed. "No. It isn't. Regretfully, I must inform you that your crewmember, Mister Scott, has gone missing."

* * *

Dun dun dun duuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuun.

Don't you just love cliffhangers? :)

I stayed up to about two o'clock writing this last night, edited it this morning, and then spent the rest of the time yelling at the internet so it would come on. I certainly hope it was worth it- I think so!

Anyways, I just wanted to say that if any of you think I should improve on anything, I'd like to hear it. Constructive criticism is always good, and it provides you a better story. So push that pretty green button below, and you'll get virtual, intangible, and invisible cookies!!


	6. Chapter 6

What's this? A chapter? You mean I actually updated????

Well, I have, after reclaiming my laptop, drowning in homework, and decorating the house for Christmas. Really, I thought Sophmoreitis was bad... Junior year is waaaaaaay worse.

Read and enjoy!!!

* * *

"What do you mean, gone missing?" Kirk asked, frowning slightly. At his station, Spock glanced briefly at his captain, a niggling doubt worming its way into his mind. Spock had been hesitant to send Scotty down there in the first place, but now he was quite sure his initial reaction was correct. Though Kirk didn't seem overly worried, Spock wouldn't relax until all the details were clear.

The President hesitated. "Mr. Scott seems to have wandered off during his tour. The guild member assigned to him was describing a piece of machinery when he apparently found something of interest. Unfortunately, that was the Lower Levels."

The tunnels, Kirk remembered. "Is there some concern about these…levels?" He asked. The genuine pity and sadness of the President's face had begun to make him wonder. The reply didn't help it at all. "Captain, the Lower Levels are a series of underground tunnels and passages built a few years back to expand our research facilities," the President explained. "However, it was clear that during the construction, we were spending more than we had, and lest we risk economic depression, we halted the efforts. In an attempt to gain money, we began renting out the space to whoever needed it. We hadn't expected it to go quite so well- I'm afraid that our own research has slacked, since we gain so much revenue from our current… guests."

That cleared up a lot of problems. Still, Kirk was wondering why it would be so concerning that Scotty went down there. "I'm afraid I don't see the problem, President." Kirk said.

Sopthern didn't waste time in responding. "Captain, our current guests are very particular about their privacy. Last time one of my people went down there, it didn't end well. Mr. Scott may have slightly more protection given his officer status, but the fact remains that he trespassed. Unless we get him back soon, your Chief Engineer may not come back completely… how should I put it?... intact."

Now Kirk had begun to worry. Whoever was down there could hurt Scotty. Though the engineer was tougher than he looked, there could only be so much he could handle. "Are you certain Scotty went down there?" Kirk said, even though he knew the answer.

"Yes." The answer was simple, yet it placed a burden on Kirk's shoulders- he inhaled deeply. "If you could kindly arrange a meeting between me and the person in charge of things in the tunnels, I'll greatly appreciate it." Inwardly, he was cursing- how could he have been so stupid? It was clear that there was something down there, something that was meant to be unknown, but he had been foolish and headstrong and had sent Scotty into danger. This wasn't supposed to happen; it was only a simple survey mission! It wasn't supposed to go wrong like this!

"I'll be glad to. And I'm truly sorry this has happened."

"I am too," Kirk said, voice hollow. "I'll be awaiting your call." Without waiting for Uhura to end the transmission, he stood, heading toward the doors. Spock followed behind him; the rest of the bridge crew watched in horror-struck silence.

Captain and Science Officer walked down the hallway in silence, the former in a daze and the latter emotionless. Only when they had reached an empty hallway did Kirk speak, fisting his hand and slamming it against the wall.

"Stupid…!" He hissed. "Stupid, stupid, stupid…!"

Spock, not alarmed in the slightest over Kirk's display, said, "Captain, this event could not have been prevented. True, you could have not issued the order, but in doing so we would not have learned about the people who dwell in the tunnels. I believe that there is something going on more serious than even Starfleet imagined."

Kirk glared at Spock for a moment. "No, you think? Spock, I don't care what's going on down there; I just need to get Scotty back! We can worry about conspiracies and secrets later."

The Vulcan continued to press the issue, however. "Mr. Scott's predicament only makes your orders more vital. If we can figure out what's going on, perhaps we can figure out a better solution to save him. The more we know of a problem, the easier it is to find a reasonable and safe conclusion."

Kirk stared at him for a long time. "What do you suggest, Spock?" He said, voice monotone. "My orders to you were to look around to see if anything looked even remotely suspicious and to get friendly with the natives in case they spilled something. Now, apparently, that will take too long. Every day we wait, Scotty's life is in more danger."

"Precisely. But while you are negotiating Mr. Scott's release, someone else – someone more careful- can infiltrate the facilities and obtain more details." Spock sounded absolutely sincere, and for a moment, Kirk thought it would work- then he shook his head. "Scotty was only down there for a few moments, Spock. If he was captured in such a short time, it's obvious that getting in and out of there is difficult, no matter what defenses the person has. I'd rather not risk another crew member." Something in his eyes told Spock he knew exactly what the Vulcan had implied. "If all else fails, I'll consider it- but only when every option is gone. Understand?"

Spock nodded. "Yes sir. But what shall we do for now?"

Kirk sagged against the wall. "We wait to see if I can get Scotty free. Until then, I'll see if I can get Doctor Stephenson down there as planned." He looked half-heartedly in the direction of sickbay. "I guess I'd better go tell her that the tour is postponed indefinitely for now."

"Should we tell her what's going on?"

"Why not? She'll get wind of it soon enough, especially if we bring an injured Scotty back," Kirk replied. "Return to the bridge and call me if Sopthern contacts us. I'll be back shortly."

He headed toward sickbay, internally conflicted yet showing an outward calm. His crew had no reason to suspect that one of their commanding officers was in danger. He would make sure that nothing he did would cause undue panic.

Alandria was filling out forms and updating files when he entered. She glanced at him, and then said, "I hope you have a good excuse."

"I do." He said. "But this isn't the place. Walk with me?"

She sighed in relief. "I'll do anything to get out of this. Desk work bores me. Lead on, Captain."

They left sickbay, and Kirk brought her to the observation deck, where they wouldn't be interrupted. He knew exactly why he had brought her there. Looking at the stars calmed him. And hopefully, it would calm Alandria as well. He didn't know the doctor well enough to gauge her reaction to Scotty's plight . . . and his idiocy.

"Alright. Here's the thing- a few weeks ago, Starfleet contacted me and asked me to investigate a series of planets and to report anything out of the ordinary. Though the command was odd, I followed it- remember when we were getting to a new planet pretty much every other day? That was because of that." He took a breath. "After I reported my findings, they sent me a new one."

"Which is why McCoy left," Alandria said.

Kirk nodded. "Yes. The order also included me to investigate Theron, since apparently a rebel force has their headquarters here. Only, the order was changed before we arrived. I was to proceed with finding ways to help the economy, but to delve no further into their business. I, however, decided to take matters into my own hands and root out the problem."

She frowned, sitting down on one of the benches lining the wall. "Wait a minute. You're telling me rebel forces are hiding out on Theron? What made them believe that?"

Kirk joined her. "I don't know, but their assumption wasn't based on false evidence. In the original message, Pike only said that they thought it would a good spot to have headquarters. Then another Admiral whose name escapes me at the moment undermined Pike's orders and told me not to investigate. He was pretty much waving a red flag in my face, that's how worried and stressed he seemed."

"Well, have you found something out?"

Her expectant and somewhat worried look almost made him lie. Almost, but not quite. His obligation as Captain was a stronger drive, and he found himself saying, "When we visited the planet yesterday, Spock recorded a series of tunnels under the earth that drew some concern. I sent Scotty down there to investigate. Unfortunately, they weren't innocent. According to the president, the researchers who are down there are very private, and if I don't free Scotty soon, he could die." Saying the words increased his burden. Almost fearful as to the expression he would find on her face should he look at her, Kirk studied the stars some more. "Sopthern is going to try to arrange a meeting between me and the man in charge, but if it fails, I'll have to send another person down there to free Scotty and steal information. I don't want to take the risk, but unless we know what we're dealing with, things can get really ugly really fast."

Alandria was quiet for quite some time. When she finally spoke, it wasn't about Scotty or about the mission; rather, it was about him. "You need time to rest," she said. "Worrying won't help you. When was the last time you slept a full night?"

"Three days ago."

"Then you need it more than ever," She insisted. "It will take a while before the meeting is arranged, and unless you want to look like the walking dead, sleep is the best option."

He let her pull him, unresisting, to the turbolift. "How charmingly put." Kirk said, slightly disappointed that she didn't have faith in him. As soon as he met her look, though, he knew that he was wrong. She was worried about him. It shone clearly in the way her eyebrows knitted together, and the way her hand gently applied pressure to his arm. He sighed. "Alright. I'll head to my room."

She nodded, relaxing. "I'll go tell Mr. Spock where you are. I'm sure he won't mind, though."

"Tell him to run a scan of the tunnels underneath the surface," Kirk said, mind working full gear. "And see if he can locate Scotty's signal somehow. With luck we can beam him out of there, but if not we at least will know where he is."

Alandria shook her head. "Stop worrying. We'll handle things. Before he left, McCoy left me a few notes on how to handle everyone. I learned by observing, too. Never fear, Captain, your ship is in good hands."

Kirk smiled at her, almost missing the doors opening on his level. "You know what? I believe you. I'm leaving the crew in your care, Doctor."

She gently pushed him off the turbolift. "I won't let you down, Captain."

With Kirk on his way to a decent sleep, Alandria went to the Bridge, satisfied that things had worked out with Kirk. She didn't like seeing him that way. For some reason, seeing Jim Kirk stressed and sleep-deprived was different from seeing a normal crewmember the same way. Perhaps it was because he was the Captain. Or perhaps it was because Kirk seemed more like a human and less like the Commanding Officer whenever he was around her. He certainly wasn't like the others of his station that was for sure.

Spock didn't notice her at first, but when she approached he looked up from his screen. "May I help you?" He asked. Alandria nodded. "The Captain is taking a nap upon my orders. And you are to scan for the tunnels and Mr. Scott's signal upon his orders. And I am to return to sickbay, upon McCoy's orders." Though this last statement was said with a straight face, there was a sparkle of laughter in her eyes. Curious, Spock asked, "What do you mean, Lieutenant?"

Alandria shrugged. "Before he left, McCoy threatened to end my life if I took one step out of sickbay without seeing that everything was done. Seeing as how I still have paperwork to finish and a few nurses to bully around, I'm going against his orders. Though," She smirked, "I fail to see why I should do all the paperwork. After all, he left me a heap of it… perhaps I should leave some as well for a welcome back gift."

Spock could see Uhura laughing at her station, and with the slightest raise of the mouth, he said, "I think that is a fine idea."

"Glad you think so," She said cheerfully. "Call me if anything needs my immediate attention, or if Kirk wakes up before two hours."

Uhura shook her head as Alandria left. "That woman is so much like Kirk sometimes it scares me." She commented.

"True, but in Lieutenant Stephenson, the humor is more honest and straight-forward. The Captain's is . . . how should I put it? Crude and sly."

Uhura flashed him a smile. "McCoy did the right thing putting her in charge."

"Indeed." Spock turned back to his station, beginning to scan the tunnels.

He had just finished when Kirk walked in. Though he still had circles under his eyes, they were more grey than purple, and he no longer slouched when he walked. Crisply, he said, "Did you finish scanning, Spock?"

The Vulcan nodded. "The tunnels are quite expansive. It seems that there is a multitude of small rooms on the first level, with more spacious areas on the lower three. Each level has at least twenty different hallways, all connected with one another. Unfortunately, there is some sort of signal that they are emitting that blocks my scanner somewhat, and I am unable to discern individual life forms. From what I was able to gather, I believe there are around two hundred living things down there."

"A needle in a haystack," Kirk mused. "Has Sopthern contacted me?"

"Not yet," Uhura called out.

Kirk sighed. "Alright. Well, I'm off for lunch. Anyone want me to pick something up?"

Uhura raised her hand. "A latte with whipped cream and a cherry, please."

"I'd like one of those, too," Sulu called out. Kirk looked at him. "Aren't you supposed to be off duty?"

Sulu shrugged. "Some of the people from Security are hogging the gym, so I figured I'd stay up here until they were done. Besides, Chekov owes me a rematch in chess."

"I'd like black tea with sugar, Keptin, with a sweet cake on the side." Chekov said, ignoring Sulu.

Kirk nodded, wondering what a sweet cake was but deciding not to ask. "Spock? You want anything?"

"I'm fine. Thank you."

Sulu frowned at the door once Kirk had left. "What was that all about?"

"He's trying to keep his mind off of things," Uhura said. "I remember that from our Academy days. Whenever he was stressed, worried, or frustrated, he had to do something with his hands. That either meant finding a new girl, or building things." Seeing their stares, she defended, "I had McCoy in a few classes, alright? You'd be surprised what people let slip during labs."

Sulu shrugged. "Well, he needs it. Are you off shift, Chekov?"

"When the Keptin comes back, I am."

Uhura joined Spock at his station. "Do you think Sopthern will be able to contact the one in charge down there?"

Spock looked up at his girlfriend, a trace of concern in his eyes. "I don't know. But for Mr. Scott's sake and the Captain's, I hope he does."

////////////

An innocent-looking message awaited McCoy when he checked his computer in the morning, quickly turning into a sign of evil as he read about the meeting later that day. Though not particularly looking forward to seeing Waters again, he was interested in meeting others in his division. Perhaps he could start by gaining their respect, and then the division heads, and ultimately Gordo. After all, a year gave him a lot of breathing space, and he was sure he would figure it out in time.

Throwing on his lab coat, he strolled to the cafeteria, running his fingers through his hair for an impromptu brush and mentally reminding himself to shave later that night. Coarse hairs had begun to appear along his chin and down his neck, causing his skin to itch constantly. Not only was it a distraction, but it made his appearance look odd. He hadn't had a beard since med school.

Trying to ignore the constant desire to scratch, McCoy focused on the meeting. What exactly was he required to bring? He had already downloaded the files and reports concerning his lab onto his padd, as well as the reports from his group. In a separate folder he contained all of the faulty 'cures' that his team had discovered, and was planning on sending a complaint to the person in charge of Research and Development- that is, if he knew who was in charge of R&D.

McCoy decided to bring up the subject during the meeting to see if anyone else had discovered more of the medicines. If he got enough people, he would be able to file a formal complaint to Gordo, and perhaps Starfleet, soon. The only thing that worried him was the fact that the Choosing was still unsolved. Faulty medication could only be a small portion of a larger problem. Until he was certain of just what the problem was, he couldn't expose himself as a threat. Rather, he would have to disguise himself as an ally.

_A wolf in sheep's clothing,_ he thought. Though, if the people here were willing to develop medication that destroyed the user, he supposed 'A sheep in wolf's clothing' would be a better term to describe him.

Lillian was already in the cafeteria, working her way through a banana, yogurt, and oatmeal. What made him stare was that all of the above were in the same bowl.

"Good morning," She said, smiling. "Ready for another long work day?"

"More like a morning stuck in a meeting," He replied. "What is that?"

She looked at her food. "Bananas, yogurt, and oatmeal. It's better than it looks." As if to prove it she took a large bite- suppressing a shudder, he went to the replicator to make a plate of safe, normal scrambled eggs with a side of bacon.

"You have no imagination, do you?" Lillian asked when he returned and sat down beside her.

He shook his head. "I have plenty of imagination. I just have the brains to not carry it out." Ignoring her rolled eyes, he focused on the flower necklace instead. Currently, it was yellow with pale streaks of blue; happiness for the yellow, sadness for the blue.

She looked down at it herself, smiling ruefully. "Sorry. It's been a while since I've had someone to talk to. You see, ever since my best friend was Chosen . . . ." She clamped her mouth shut as the petals flushed dark blue with red streaks; overwhelming sadness and anger. But who was she angry at? Hopefully not him. "She must have meant a lot to you," McCoy observed, and Lily nodded.

"She was the only one who stuck by me in my time of greatest need," She explained. "When all other doors were closed to me, she gave up her own dream job to join me here. Grateful doesn't even begin to describe how I felt toward her."

He laid a hand over her own. "Lily, listen to me," He said. She turned; for a moment, she was lost in the intensity of his hazel eyes. "I swear to you, so long as I have breath in my body, I will help you escape this place. You aren't happy here, and it's time someone gave you freedom again. Your friend gave you comfort. I'm going to give you wings."

McCoy's words struck something within her, a secret part of herself that she hadn't accessed in a long time. She wanted to believe him. She needed to believe him. But that part of herself that was broken inside urged her to run away before she was hurt again.

"I . . . thank you." She finally said. "You don't know how much that means to me." Her green eyes were downcast, averted; the flower was purple with anxiety. Disappointed, McCoy withdrew. "We'd best hurry up. I need to make sure everything is set up in the lab before leaving for the meeting."

He had been so sure that he was getting somewhere with her. Though Lillian put on an open, happy face to the world, it was times like these that he remembered that inside, she was suffering. Before she had looked away, McCoy had seen more pain in her eyes than he ever imagined- only his patients during the Nero episode had mirrored it. Whatever had happened to her, whatever she kept inside herself was eating at her heart and soul. Desperately wishing that he could do something to heal her, he stood and left the cafeteria without a word, Lillian following in ashamed silence.

His group was chatting quietly when he entered, and though they all stiffened at attention and gave respectful nods, the stream of talk did not quite stop. Proud of his minor accomplishment, McCoy said, "I have a meeting today, so you'll have to work without me for a while. Draper, Sarrasri, I'm leaving you two in charge."

The two nodded, though they did not look up from their machines. Lillian was already around the corner, hidden in her own work place, and the brief flash of her hair did little to appease the knot of apprehension within him. Regretting that their conversation had to end so awkwardly, but more nervous about what he was going to face, he sighed heavily and said, "Might as well go run the gauntlet. Wish me luck."

A few laughs floated after him as he left, and it raised his spirits enough so that when he reached the meeting room, his nerve did not fail him when he opened the door. Two others were already seated, quiet and stone-faced. He noticed the considerable gap between them. Apparently, there was little love between the two. Choosing a spot as close to the door as possible, he sat, placing his padd in the position of the other two and folding his hands over the table.

A heavy silence descended upon the room. Though they hid the glances, McCoy knew that his two roommates were watching him, evaluating him. McCoy didn't give them the honor of repeating the process. Their furtive glances and hidden expressions caused a firm distrust to grow within him.

Three more arrived by the time Waters entered, and judging from her expression she was not happy. "Where is Yagel?" She snapped.

"He mentioned a migrane last night," one replied woodenly.

Waters sniffed. "He should know that meetings are mandatory, no matter what he has going on. McCoy," Her eyes swiveled to him, "how are things progressing?"

He was about to respond when a short, pallid man stumbled in, looking the worst for wear. His lab coat was wrinkled and his brown hair was hanging limply from his scalp, but that did not distract from the mottled red skin of his face. "Good god man, what happened?" McCoy burst out, ignoring the disapproving stares of his fellow researchers.

"Allergies," the man puffed. "I unknowingly ate some cherries at breakfast." He spoke as though he was in pain- a hypo materialized in McCoy's hand, and he went over to Yagel, injecting it into his neck. Almost immediately the change was noticeable. Yagel was no longer struggling for breath, and he stood straighter, his eyes less glassy.

"That's only a temporary reprieve," McCoy said, helping him into a chair. "Stop by my lab after we're done, and I'll give you the correct remedy."

Yagel looked grateful. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

Throughout the entire spectacle no one had moved to help the two, and when McCoy had sat Waters said dryly, "Now that the show is over, will you report?"

At first, McCoy didn't realize that she was addressing him. Only when her unwavering stare did not leave him did he realize that he was first on the chopping block. Clearing his throat, he opened the files. "My team and I have made considerable progress on our projects, but I have frequently seen strange cures cropping up in our supplies." He paused, but no recognition shone in the eyes of the others. Pressing onward, he said, "My team and I have been given cures from R&D that, quite frankly, shouldn't exist. They destroy the host's body within moments, the latest a year. I don't know what possessed them to create such appalling disasters, but I do know that I have yet to find a remotely successful cure."

Waters looked bored. "What happens in R&D is out of my control," She said. "You can send a message to Professor Del'Thor if you'd like. Yagel, report."

Seething inwardly, McCoy leaned back, struggling to keep his face expressionless. It was as if no one cared about doing the right thing! What type of place was this, which put personal gain before helping others?

Jim never should have dropped him off here.

After struggling through another hour of reports, lecturing from Waters, and a discussion on what to accomplish by the next year, McCoy was looking forward to the mind-numbing routine of the lab. Exiting the meeting room in an air of disgust and distaste, he barely noticed Yagel running to catch up.

The man followed him into his lab, where McCoy finally realized who he was and remembered what he was there for. Going over to his desk, he opened a drawer and grabbed his medicine kit, the familiarity of the worn black bag bringing him some comfort. The faithful piece of leather had been with him before med school, ever since his father had recognized the same doctoring spirit in his son and had passed it on during McCoy's eighteenth birthday. The same bag had been with him during residency, practice, Starfleet, Nero, and every small calamity that came under Kirk's captaincy. It made sense that it would serve him now, even though allergies weren't exactly catastrophic.

Opening the bag, he rooted through his contents until he found what he was looking for, and then pressed it against Yagel's neck. Within seconds all other visible signs of the allergy had vanished.

"Thank you," Yagel said solemnly. "I'm pretty sure that I wouldn't be here right now if not for you."

McCoy agreed wholeheartedly. "If you need anything for allergies, just come see me. But don't make a habit of it. I can't abandon my work for you every time."

"I can't abandon mine to come see you that often either," He responded. "Say, why don't you join me for some dinner? You could meet some other researchers around here."

McCoy hesitated. Glancing at his and Lillian's stations, he was slightly disappointed to see that she hadn't come out to meet him- then he inwardly shook himself at wishing she would. Lillian was her own person, and didn't need to stop everything to see him, especially when it had only been an hour and a half since they had last seen each other.

His mind made up, McCoy nodded. "Sure. I'll meet you at the entrance."

Satisfied, Yagel rushed off to his lab. Turning to face Draper, who had been patiently waiting to report as McCoy dealt with Yagel, he asked, "Everything go smoothly?"

"Yes sir. We had two more defective cures turn up, and they have been separated and logged." He stated.

"Great. You're dismissed."

McCoy went to his station, giving Lillian a hesitant greeting. She replied happily enough; her subdued mood had faded, it seemed. "I see you're still alive," She observed, thrusting one hip out and resting a hand on it. He had to smile at that. "Barely. I can't seem to go even a week without experiencing some minor disaster." Briefly he described Yagel's dilemma. Lillian shook her head at the end, saying, "The higher-ups don't deserve their status."

"Neither do the R&D team," He growled. "You can bet that I'll be sending Starfleet a complaint as soon as I am able if things don't turn around soon."

Lillian hesitated for a moment, then reached out and laid a hand on his arm. Startled at the contact and wondering why her touch had warmed him, he stared at her as she said, softly, "Things will be better with you here. I know it. Starfleet knew what they were doing when they sent you here."

Clearing his throat, he tried to mask the roughness of his voice. "I sincerely hope I live up to your standards."

She smiled, then dropped her hand and turned back to her machine.

As McCoy worked the machine, his mind began to wander. Testing was great and all, but when would he be able to actually create something? This division was about creating cures; would he actually be able to do that? Something told him this wasn't simply a chance to allow him time to get used to his job. Perhaps they wanted him in a quiet part of the station, where he wouldn't cause trouble and stay out of the way until his year was up. After all, as soon as he started doing something really productive, he'd be let in on the rest of the station's affairs, and thus its secrets.

Thinking about how everyone else had reacted when Yagel had arrived, he knew that to become an integral member, it would mean not caring about the good he'd be doing, and caring more about rising through the ranks. And that was something he knew that would never happen.

When shift was finally over, McCoy wearily wished everyone goodnight and went to the cafeteria. Lillian trotted behind him, chattering over how relieved she was to finally get some decent food inside of her. Uncomfortably he cut her off, saying, "I've been invited to eat with a few other researchers, most likely laboratory heads."

She was silent. Even more uncomfortable than before, he continued, "I can ask if you can join us, but…"

"Oh, no, it's ok." She said quickly, but he could tell she was upset by the angle of her head and how she refused to meet his gaze. "I'll just get something to go. I need to catch up on my reports anyway."

"Lillian…"

"I'm fine," She insisted, but she quickened her pace to pass him.

McCoy followed, his heart heavy. The day had gone from bad to worse. He didn't know what this new-found awkwardness was between them, but he didn't like it. Vowing to make it up to her tomorrow somehow, he forced himself to not look at Lillian as he joined the other reasearchers at their table. Only when he sat down did he sneak a glance around the room. She was nowhere to be found.

* * *

Poor Bones. He never has it easy with relationships.

So, what did you think? Constructive criticism is welcome as is general reveiws. Once Christmas break comes along I'll be updating more quickly; but until then, just be patient, please. Love you all!


	7. Chapter 7

Merry Christmas!!! As a gift, I'm giving some unashamed McCoy/Lily flirting in this chapter.

Enjoy!

* * *

McCoy knocked on Lillian's door, a peace offering in the form of chocolate in one hand. His talk with Yagel and the other lab heads had been interesting, and he knew Lillian would want to hear about it. That is, if she opened her door.

"Lilly?" He called. "You in there?"

There was a noise from the other side of the door. It opened, but only partially; Lillian stuck her head between the gap left by the door and wall, her hair wet. "I just got out of the shower." She said. "Sorry I didn't answer right away."

He instantly felt warm. "No, no problem. It's my fault, really." His thoughts ran wild; Lillian was still wet, and judging from the way she was shielding the rest of her body, she was probably wearing nothing but towel. Not surprisingly, the fact that an attractive young woman clad in nothing but a single thin piece of material and standing not two feet away from him made his head spin. Feelings that hadn't surfaced in the years since his divorce and even before then invaded his senses, and he struggled to keep his voice even. "Do you want me to stay out here until you, um, get dressed?"

"Hold on a sec," She said, and then her head disappeared. A few seconds later and she had put on a thick, fuzzy white bathrobe that came down to mid-thigh as she opened the door further to let him in. He tried to hide his swallow.

_Dammit, man, get your thoughts together,_ he thought savagely. _Lillian's a friend, a colleague, not a potential fling! You're starting to act like Jim!_

_ That doesn't change the fact that she is attractive and wearing nothing but a bathrobe, _the more rebellious side of his mind pointed out.

Lillian, unaware of the emotional turmoil she was putting him through, had walked over to a cage hanging in the corner of the room. Instantly, its occupant began to make a strange, trilling purr, and Lily cooed to it. "Come on, Juniper, Mommy's here. Yes, good girl, come here . . . ." she turned, with what looked like a fuzz ball in her hands.

McCoy stared at it for a moment. "What is that thing?"

"It's a tribble!" Lily exclaimed, walking over to him and holding it out. "Isn't it adorable?"

As he looked at the fuzz ball – was that thing moving?! – he had to admit that it did look rather cute. As if sensing his agreement, the tribble wriggled closer, its cooing intensifying.

"She likes you," Lily said with a smile.

McCoy put the bag with the chocolate on the bed, picking up the tribble instead. Probing it with one finger, he wasn't alarmed when the creature proved to be just as warm and fuzzy as it looked. Only thing was, he wasn't entirely sure where its head was, or if the thing would bite. It looked harmless, but so did lion cubs, and yet they could bite a man's finger off.

"She harmless," Lily said as she sat down on the bed. "Just don't feed her too much food, or else she'll multiply."

"And that's a bad thing?" McCoy asked in confusion.

She shook her head, patting the space beside her. "You have no idea."

Though McCoy had to admit the tribble did interest him, he had a different topic to approach. But first . . . he picked up the bag once more, complying with her request. "Here, I got this for you. I'm sorry about earlier."

She accepted his gift, raising her eyebrows at the contents. "Chocolate? You must really feel sorry."

He raised one of his own back at her. "Well, I don't have much in the way of worldly possessions."

"No, I like it. Thanks." She pulled out a piece and popped it in her mouth. McCoy felt light-headed. "So, what do you want to talk about?"

For a moment, he forgot what his intentions had been. Her eyes were a compelling bright green, with darker flecks adding a depth of mystery and attraction to them. The room was suddenly to hot, and he forced himself to look at the wall. "I thought I'd share some of the things I gleaned from my table companions. They were . . . quite interesting."

She leaned forward, interested. "Do tell," she said.

He nodded, still avoiding her face, and began.

/////////////

_Yagel gestured around the table to the three other men sitting down. "Doctor, this is Professors Truitt, Yamamoto, and Friedman. Everyone, this is Doctor McCoy. He's the newest member to the Bioinformatics team."_

_ Yamamoto and Friedman nodded, but Truitt stuck out a hand. "Call me Wesley. I work in the agricultural facility, and these two work in R&D."_

_ "Call me Bones," He said. At their look, he shrugged. "Long story. One of my best friends gave it to me when we met."_

_ "Well, Bones . . ." Wesley said, "Welcome to Theta Six."_

_///////////_

"Wait a minute." Lillian interrupted. "You met two guys from R&D?! What did they say? Do they know what's going on?"

McCoy stared at her, and she blushed slightly. "Sorry. Continue, please."

"I asked them what was going on," McCoy said, "But they were more curious about my career at first."

////////////

_Yamamoto cocked his head slightly. "You served aboard a starship, correct? I heard one of my assistants talking about it before shift today."_

_ "Yeah, aboard the _Enterprise._ I was CMO." McCoy answered, taking a bite out of his salad. Yamamoto continued. "That's quite an accomplishment. You must be honored."_

_ McCoy frowned. "Honor has little to do with it. Being aboard during the catastrophe with Nero really made me wake up to a few things. When we were done . . . well, quite frankly, there weren't enough people to go around. Nearly our whole fleet was wiped out. I'm just lucky Jim . . . I mean, Captain Kirk, knew what he was doing. Those days stuck in sickbay with the dead and dying were the worst of my life."_

_ Friedman finally spoke up, his voice heavily accented. "You knew Captain Kirk, I presume?"_

_ "We're best friends," McCoy replied._

_ Yagel shook his head. "I don't envy you in the slightest. I'm grateful the rest of my family took safe, comfortable jobs in Earth's universities."_

_ The other three nodded, though Truitt looked thoughtful. "What made you wind up here? No offense, but this place is pretty much the bottom of the totem pole."_

_ "None taken," McCoy replied. "And I don't know the specifics. Starfleet just ordered me to be stationed here for a year. Though, my job has been rather interesting . . ."_

_ All four men burst out laughing, even Yamamoto, who looked like he had been sitting on something uncomfortable all day. "That's a good one." Truitt wheezed. _

_ "I'm serious." McCoy insisted, watching Yamamoto and Friedman intently. "Recently, my team has been picking up strange cures that destroy the host body within a year. Seeing as how we're trying to help people, not harm them, this is a cause of concern."_

_ For a long moment, no one spoke. Yagel fidgeted nervously, while Truitt looked between McCoy and the two silent R&D members. Finally, Friedman spoke up._

_ "We are too new in our position to be of any concern with the Division Head," He said. "But, I do know that Hunter has been visiting many R&D labs recently. I believe he is behind these so-called 'cures' of yours."_

_ Hunter's name seemed to come with negative connotations, no matter where they were; it was as if a thundercloud had descended upon the group. "What does he look like, anyway?" McCoy asked._

_ "Brown hair. Brown eyes. Your average man." Truitt shrugged. "I've only seen him once, and I didn't know who it was until someone commented upon it later."_

_ "Whoever he is, he has Gordo wrapped around his finger," Yamamoto pointed out._

_ Though something inside him was warning him to keep quiet, his mouth had other ideas. Boldly, he asked, "What about these Choosings? Do you know what they are about?"_

_ If Hunter had made them gloomy, the Choosing made them absolutely terrified. After looking around quickly to make sure no one overheard, they all looked at him with narrowed eyes. "Never mention that, or you may be gone next," Truitt hissed._

_ They were silent for a long time after that, until the topic finally changed to safe grounds. In a strained atmosphere, McCoy found himself debating the uses of stress medication. Not once did anyone look him directly in the eye after that, though he did apologize before he left. They didn't seem to acknowledge it._

_//////////////_

Only Juniper's cooing prevented the silence between them from being oppressive. Sometime during his narrative the tribble had transferred to Lily, and she now sat petting it, chewing her bottom lip. McCoy studied the wall. He had found his eyes slipping more than once to the opening of the bathrobe below her neck, and though he had averted his gaze back to her face before she noticed, he didn't want to risk it again. His southern roots had kept him firmly in the belief that men shouldn't be as rude as to stare at a woman's assets, no matter how prominent or enticing they were. Lily didn't seem to notice her current garment was loosening. Rather, she looked ready to punch something.

"At least we know Hunter is behind this," McCoy said. "It doesn't seem like Gordo is aware of anything."

"Hunter is the true leader of this place," Lily said, voice tight. "Gordo lets him have free reign, and the Division Heads know that Hunter has the most power right now. They follow him, not Gordo." She gazed at him intently, and once more McCoy felt like the temperature had shot up twenty degrees. "If we get to Hunter, we can find out how to stop this."

"The key word is if. He's hard to get to, that's for sure." He said. "I'm still trying to figure out a way to get close to Gordo that doesn't entail me becoming one of them."

Juniper wriggled in Lily's hands, apparently wanting to return to McCoy. At least the tribble would distract him from Lillian. Continuing, he said, "I fear the longer it takes us to figure it out, the less we will be able to do when the time comes. If we're going to stop the Choosing, it's going to have to be done with subtlety and brought down with surprise. We can't let Hunter know what we're doing, or else he'll simply Choose one of us to get rid of the problem."

"Not you." She said. "There are too many people who'll know you're gone. The target will be me. Everyone knows that I'm not happy with Hunter after he took my best friend. He just needs another excuse, and I'm out of here."

Juniper was placed on the bed, and McCoy grabbed Lily's hands. "Look at me," he demanded. She did so. "Lily, I swear we'll both get out of this. Even if we don't figure this out within the year, I'm taking you with me on the _Enterprise_ anyway. If you're Chosen, so help me god, I'll tear this place down to find you. I promised I'd help you. I intend to uphold it."

Her eyes moist, Lily hugged him. "Thank you." She said. "And I promise to help you as much as you do. Though . . . I thought our bet was that I went on _Enterprise_ if I won."

McCoy shrugged, hoping she wouldn't notice how fast his heart was beating. "I'm still going to win, but I'm not so cruel as to deny you victory as well."

Her voice was muffled as she buried her face in his shoulder. "I don't deserve a friend like you."

A happy little sigh emitted from his mouth, and he smiled. "You're stuck with me either way, so you'd better get used to it."

Lily laughed and pulled back to look at him, though they still kept their arms around each other. "I'm not leaving you either, so you can't dump me after an argument."

"Ma'am," He drawled, playing up his accent, "I would be foolish to let you out of my life."

Her eyes lit up. "I seemed to have stumbled upon a southern gentleman and didn't even know it."

McCoy was about to reply, but let out a rather startling swear as he saw the tribble in the bag holding the chocolate. Tugging out the furry monster, he found it had devoured the contents of the bag as well as part of the bag itself. Scowling, he said, "You little garbage disposal! Those weren't for you!"

"Oops. I should have remembered that she eats pretty much anything." Lillian apologized. "Come here, Juniper, it's time for you to go to bed."

She stood and went to the cage, and he took the short moment to admire her curves. Only when she turned back toward him did he stand. "It's getting late. I should probably go back."

Though Lily looked slightly disappointed, she nodded. "Right. See you tomorrow."

He pretended to tip a hat at her. "Goodnight, miss."

She giggled. "Goodnight."

He left her room, feeling far more confident than when he had entered. Things were patched up with Lily, if they had even been broken in the first place. Now all he was looking forward to was a nice, long shower, preferably cold, before getting in bed.

And yet, shortly after he had stepped inside his room, he suddenly had the overwhelming urge to fall asleep. Looking through half-lidded eyes, his vision began to blur, and he thought he smelled something sweet. Wavering, he struggled to place the scent, until suddenly it clicked and he stumbled backwards with a shout. Fumbling for the door, he tried not to inhale, then stumbled out into the hall, coughing.

One or two heads peered out from other rooms, wondering who was crazy enough to run half-dressed through the hall coughing their lungs out. McCoy wasn't able to explain, as he was too busy trying to keep his lungs in his body.

"Hey, are you alright?" It was Yagel's voice, and hoarsely McCoy managed to gasp, "Chemical . . . in room . . . don't go in . . ."

Of course, Yagel ignored McCoy. Going inside the room, he took a breath, and then suddenly slammed the door. "We've got to get him to the medical center! He's been exposed to a cyanide compound!" Yagel hollered at some of the onlookers.

McCoy didn't hear any more, as by then he had passed out.

/////////////

Alandria placed her padd on the bedside table, and then turned back to the man sitting on the biobed. "It's definitely influenza. Luckily, we caught it early enough that it should only be a matter of days before you're better. This doesn't prevent me from leading a ship-wide decontamination, however. If you'd tell me exactly where you've been in the past week, who and what you've had contact with, and how long you've felt these symptoms I'll appreciate it."

Ensign Rider frowned. "Does this mean I'll be confined to quarters?"

"Only until you're no longer contagious," She assured him. "I'll tell your Superior Officer that I was the one who authorized it so you won't get reprimanded."

Rider relaxed slightly. "Thanks. I'd appreciate it."

"No problem. Commander Olau is an intimidating man." Swiftly she tapped out a message on her padd, and then turned to apprehend a passing nurse. "Get me these medications for Ensign Rider," she passed the nurse the padd, "and set a replicator disk with only water, chicken soup, and broths." Ignoring the groan from said Ensign, Alandria turned to her next patient. "Come with me, Lieutenant," she said crisply. "You are here for your physical, correct?"

"Yes ma'am," The woman said, and gave Rider a sympathetic look as she passed.

It had been a busy afternoon in sickbay. Rider had been the third case of influenza, and when he gave her the names of those he had come in contact with she'd hopefully be able to find the source. After the current physical with Lieutenant Norman, she was going to organize a sterilizing team to start her decontamination process. She had already sent a message to Kirk requesting a temporary lockdown to make the job easier, but he had yet to respond. If he knew what was good for him, he would still be asleep. If she found out he had woke up after a mere hour, heads were going to roll.

Norman hopped onto the bed after the necessary preliminary questions, letting Alandria record her vitals. After everything checked out, they moved on to endurance, heart, and muscle strength, Alandria noticing and recording even the slightest fluctuation in the results.

When they were done fifteen minutes later, Norman prepared to leave, but Alandria stopped her. "If you'll wait just a moment, Lieutenant, there's one last thing I want you to do."

"What is it?" Norman looked worried. Trying to sound reassuring, Alandria said, "It won't take long. Would you mind giving me a urine sample? I'd like to run it through some tests."

Confused, Norman nodded, being led off shortly after by a nurse. Chapel, carrying a tray of medication that needed to be sorted, joined Alandria as they left. "Pregnancy test?"

"Exactly. I've known that she and her boyfriend have been going steady for a while now, and I caught her sneaking out of his room early this morning as I was going to the mess hall."

The head nurse looked skeptical. "That's hardly a call for a pregnancy."

"Well, she's also had no birth control record. I am aware that there are methods outside prescriptions, but during the questions she told me she's been getting dizzy spells."

"Ah. That makes sense." Chapel continued to her destination.

As she waited for Norman to return with her sample, Alandria began assigning decontamination teams, checking her padd again to see if Kirk had responded. He had not; however, there was a message from Uhura, who said one of her communications staff had begun to complain of stomachaches. She immediately ordered them in for a check-up.

"Got a second?"

Jumping, Alandria whirled to see Kirk leaning against the wall on the other side of the biobed. "Don't you know how to knock?" She demanded. "And what are you doing up?"

"The doors open automatically, so I can hardly knock," he pointed out demurely. "And I got at least an hour and a half of sleep. I promise I'll get some more after Sopthern contacts me. But until then, I couldn't sleep even if I wanted to."

"I have some pills that will knock you out until next Thursday," She reminded him. "So don't complain you can't get sleep."

Kirk shrugged. "I may try some of those later. But we can talk about those sometime else. How many confirmed cases of influenza has there been?"

"Three, with a potential fourth coming in sometime today." Alandria responded. "I sent you a request for a lock-down to make decontamination easier."

He nodded. "Yeah, I got it, and have already alerted the biology labs to start producing medication in case we're low. When do you want the lock-down?"

"Soon. Give me an hour or so, and I'll contact you when I'm ready." She would have preferred to wait until after mapping the spread of the virus, but there were too few cases to determine where it began. Worst-case scenario she would have to run multiple decontamination processes until the sickness was gone. At least influenza was relatively simple to treat and recover from.

Kirk slid onto the bed, the biobed instantly picking up his presence and displaying the information. Casually, Alandria glanced at it, more out of habit than concern. "Your blood pressure is low. Have you eaten lately?"

Annoyed, he looked over at her. "Can you go an hour without asking about the health of your companion?"

"No, not unless I know them well, and even then they provide a warning if they aren't feeling well. Otherwise, I'd become the doctor instead of the friend."

He nodded, and then studied the wall. "Alandria, can you tell me something?"

It suddenly occurred to her that she'd never seen Kirk so upset or worried. Though she hadn't known him long, she had heard from the crew how commanding and in control he always was. Scotty's disappearance - and perhaps Bone's absence as well - had put a larger burden on Kirk than he could deal with alone. She sat down beside him. "What?"

"Do you think Starfleet is biting off more than it can chew by seeking out these rebels? Am I? I don't want to hurt my crew, Alandria. When I accepted this position, I took it so I could protect people, not lead them to their deaths. This is the first time I've come close to losing a crewmember on the start of this voyage, and having it to be Scotty is hard to bear."

From the corner of her eyes Alandria saw Norman entering sickbay, but she was spared from choosing between her Captain and the Lieutenant when Chapel took over. Focusing on Kirk once more, she said, "Death, no matter who it is, is always difficult, especially on people in command. I'm not calling you weak for worrying, rather the opposite. This response shows you care. I do believe that more is going on here than Starfleet or you can imagine, but I also know that you can pull us through this. I heard about what you did when Nero attacked, Jim. You're a hero. Your crew believes in you, and that alone should remind you that no matter what happens, you always have someone to support you. Be grateful. Not everyone has that option." Her voice had turned sad at the last part. Kirk remembered that she had been locked in an escape pod with three dead patients for days until being found, and couldn't imagine the trauma she would have gone through. He began to say something, but Alandria continued before he could try. "Besides, Scotty is smart. I'm pretty sure you'll find he's already rigged a device to escape with only a screw and dental floss, or something."

Kirk had to smile at that. "You're probably right. Well, I'll let you get back to your job. Thanks for talking."

"No problem. You focus on getting Scotty back alive and well, and I'll focus on getting this ship influenza-free." She gave him a small smile, and then walked off to see how the pregnancy tests were coming along.

It wasn't until after she left that he realized, for the first time, Alandria had addressed him as Jim. Grinning, he walked out of sickbay with every intention of celebrating privately in his quarters with a shot of alcohol. Sobriety during work be damned, he was going to enjoy this small victory.

Chapel handed Alandria the results as soon as the CMO walked in, smiling ruefully. "Your guess was right. Shall I tell her?"

Alandria shook her head. "No, let me do the talking. Bring her to a private area, though. I don't know if she'll like the news or not."

Chapel nodded, letting Alandria review the results for a moment. From the tests, it seemed Norman wasn't very far along. It was impossible to determine the gender, of course, but it seemed all first-time mothers demanded that piece of information whenever they found out they were expecting. Steeling herself for the possible flood of hormone-induced tears, Alandria went to deliver the news.

Norman was, understandably, in denial when she first heard. But after several minutes of listening to Alandria explain the signs and results, she slowly became more withdrawn and had stumbled out of sickbay in a daze to confront her boyfriend and discuss options. By then Uhura's staff member had arrived, and she led him to a biobed.

By the time Alandria requested that the lockdown be activated and her decontamination squad had been organized, two more confirmed cases had been in and out of sickbay, as well as three others who had been confined in case they developed the virus as well.

"_Attention crew, this is your captain speaking. As of now, we are entering a temporary lockdown so the decontamination squads can work without hindrance. Please report to your quarters within three minutes and await further instructions. Kirk out."_

"There's our signal," Alandria said. "Everyone, report to your sections and report back to me when you are done." She and her group were in charge of sickbay. Though she knew everyone in the team was fully capable of cleaning the area, Alandria had felt a personal obligation to clean her own workstation. And she didn't trust them to not mix up the medication in the back.

Engineering was done first, as it was the most important. After that came the biology labs, the communication labs, and whatever happened to completed next. By the time three hours had passed, all but the bridge was done.

Alandria pressed the button on the intercom. "Doctor Stephenson to Captain Kirk,"

_"Kirk here."_

"We're ready for the bridge. Can we come up?"

_"Sure. Make it quick, though." _Kirk sounded tired again. Intending to comply with his command while chastising him over his lack of sleep, Alandria rounded up some members who had yet to change out of their sanitation outfits and marched them toward the turbolift.

Only Kirk, Spock, Uhura, and Sulu were present when they arrived, the former sagging in his chair and dozing and the latter three quietly working at their stations. Gesturing at her team to continue working, she marched over to her Captain and hauled him up by the arm. "You are going to your quarters right now and getting some sleep. I know you are worried over Scotty, but enough is enough."

"Alandria, I'm fine, really! I can stay awake for a few more hours yet . . ." He suddenly yawned, and Alandria raised her eyebrows.

She probably would have succeeded in getting him to his quarters had Uhura not suddenly said, "We're being hailed, Captain."

"Bring it to the front screen," Kirk said, tugging out of Alandria's grasp. After giving an annoyed snort, she began her work.

Sopthern flickered to life on the view screen, his expression not giving anyone anything to hope for. "Captain. I hope you have been well."

Kirk suddenly wished that he could hide the dark circles under his eyes. "I've been well enough. Have you been able to contact the leader?"

"Indeed I have. He politely declined your request, however, saying that they will return Mr. Scott only after they are sure he did not learn anything private."

Kirk's heart sank. It had been too good to hope for, and yet, he found he had been hoping a lot more than he should have. "Thank you for your effort. I'll contact you at a later date."

"We are still willing to provide the medical tour, Captain, if your representative would like to come down. Despite this unfortunate incident, we are determined to make you feel welcome and comply with whatever you wish."

Alandria had materialized by Kirk's shoulder, and even in the strange sterilization outfit she didn't look out of place. "It will be my honor to visit your world, President."

Sopthern inclined his head. "When shall we be expecting you, Miss . . .?"

"Stephenson. And forgive the outfit; we are currently in the middle of containing an outbreak of influenza among the crew. Please expect me around noon tomorrow."

"I will be looking forward to your arrival." Sopthern disconnected after a polite farewell to Kirk.

"What the hell, Alandria! I didn't authorize you to go down there!" Kirk fumed. His temporary CMO faced him down, hands on her hips. "For your information, Captain, this will be the perfect distraction. No doubt those people in the tunnels will be watching whoever comes down from now on, and if they are focused on me they won't notice someone else slip in and save Scotty."

"Her argument is sound, Captain," Spock said. "However, there are flaws in your logic, Doctor. What if they do not pay attention to you, and are waiting for the rescue team when they arrive?"

"They will be," She said matter-of-factly, "Because I am going to give them every excuse to do so."

Kirk shook its head. "It's too dangerous, for you and the rescue team. My answer is no."

"I still have a job to do, Captain, and you can't keep me from doing it," She said coolly. "Sooner or later you will have to send me there to investigate the medical facilities, and it will be easier to do so before Scotty is rescued. As soon as those researchers know we've been in there, it'll be risky to go down to the surface. It's your decision."

The people on the bridge held their breath as they watched the two face off. Kirk and Alandria both had that look on their face that brooked no room for leniency; they would not give in. Uhura wanted to smack them both upside the head and demand that they stop acting like children fighting over who stole who's favorite toy.

Spock finally risked a suggestion. "Captain, Doctor, if I may. I believe that the medical tour and the rescue mission must coincide, but not without help from an outside party."

"Explain," Kirk said. He was still refusing to look away from Alandria's glare.

"While scanning the tunnels I used a frequency that is undetectable by all but the most sensitive devices. If I can change that frequency and scan again, it will appear that we are preparing to infiltrate, not already doing so. Doctor Stephenson, while on her tour, can also mark potential entrances to the tunnels. This will keep all of their sights on the Enterprise and the Doctor, not within their own walls.

"Furthermore, if Lieutenant Uhura can contact the President- on an unscrambled channel – asking for information regarding the occupants of the tunnels and the schematics of the tunnel facilities if possible, they will be further focused on the _Enterprise _in particular."

"Do you honestly think they will be listening in on our channels?" Uhura asked, concerned.

Spock gave what could pass as a shrug, though it was such a slight movement those who witnessed it weren't entirely sure it happened. "We can't leave anything to chance."

Everyone looked at Kirk and Alandria, who were still engaging in a battle of wills. And, it seemed, the smaller doctor in the bulky and rather silly decontamination outfit was winning. With a frustrated groan, Kirk threw up his hands and said, "Fine! I yield! We'll do it your way, Spock."

"Thank you," Alandria said, though no one knew if it was directed at the Science Officer for producing a satisfactory plan or to Kirk for admitting she was right. Satisfaction radiating off of her, she helped her team finish the decontamination procedure.

Kirk, still annoyed, stalked to the transporter. "Spock, you and I will head the rescue mission. Uhura, call me if anything else comes up. I'm going to bed." The turbolift doors swished shut behind him.

"He's such a baby," Alandria commented, leaning against Kirk's chair as she inspected the work her team did. "Good job, guys. Let's head back and celebrate a job well done. You can cancel the lockdown, Uhura."

As the woman complied, Spock said, "I believe the Captain's ego has been bruised, Doctor."

She waved a hand. "Someone needs to take him down a notch every once in a while. I may apologize later when he comes in for his physical next week, though. Who knows? I may even refrain from mentioning dietary changes."

She left with her team, intending on getting out of the ridiculous outfit and seeing if Chapel and her nurses had finished the contact mapping. With luck, they would be able to track down the potential risks within the next day, and put an end to the outbreak.

She was surprised to see Norman and her boyfriend waiting when she arrived. After a hasty apology, Alandria changed out of the suit and dumped it down the laundry bin, straightening her hair before walking out to meet them.

"We'd like to discuss our options with you," Norman said after Alandria asked what they needed. "As you know, a starship isn't the place to raise a child, but we are so far from any adoption agency . . ."

And thus, her normal routine began again. Only the prospect of being planet-side tomorrow kept Alandria from tearing out her hair at the sheer frustration she felt with being cooped up in the same place days on end.

* * *

We'll see some action next chapter, so hold on until New Years. Oh, and we'll also get an idea of who tried to assassinate McCoy. Don't worry, I may play with Roddenberry's characters, but I always return them intact-well, mostly. Mental health has yet to be determined.

Drop me a review, and tell me what you think! It's pretty much the only form of payment I get nowadays. Love you all!


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter eight! It's late in the day, but uploaded, as promised :) Hope you enjoy!!

* * *

Kirk stood rigidly, his arms crossed and face unreadable as Alandria double checked her supplies. She wasn't carrying much – a tricorder was slung over her shoulder and a belt with pouches containing medicines and hypos hung from her waist - and he felt like she was facing down a giant with only a slingshot. Though she had assured him multiple times over the past few hours that she would be fine, he didn't believe her. She didn't even carry a phaser, and if someone attacked her, she'd be helpless.

"I'm all ready, Mr. Undill," She said to the transporter attendant. Kirk, Spock, and their security escorts stepped up to join her, phasers in their hands. They would be beaming down at the same time, though all but Alandria would be held in suspension until the Bridge sent word that the entrances to the tunnels were clear. Only then would the transport be complete, and they would storm the tunnels for Scotty and information regarding their facilities.

"Energize," Kirk ordered, and his vision dissolved into gold and silver swirls of light. All rational thought ceased to exist; he simply floated in nothingness until he suddenly found himself standing in front of grey steel doors. Swiftly, Kirk pulled them open and descended, leaving one security guard to close the door firmly behind them and stand guard.

"Do you think they have alarms on those things?" Kirk wondered.

Spock was already recording the surroundings with his tricorder. "It is best we do not dwell on such matters, Captain." he replied. "We will find out soon enough."

The staircase spiraled lazily downward until it disgorged them into an intersection of bland white hallways. The passages stretched onward to Kirk's left and right, branching off several times, but so far as he could tell the one directly ahead continued in a straight line. Kirk turned to his Science Officer. "Which way?"

Spock studied the readings on the tricorder. "From my calculations, Mr. Scott entered at the other end of the hallway directly in front of us. I suggest we explore elsewhere, in the case that the hallway concerned is being watched."

Kirk nodded. "To the right, then," he said, and the three began walking.

The walls were devoid of any decorations, save the lone door that, upon closer inspection, was revealed to be storage areas. Not having time to crack the codes on the boxes that lay inside, they moved on after confirming that Scotty was, indeed, not present.

They happened upon another intersection just as an Andorian was exiting another room, and both parties regarded each other in shock. Finally, the Andorian whirled to raise an alarm, but before he could take three steps the security guard shot him down. Gagging his mouth and tying his hands with fabric ripped from his lab coat, Kirk tossed him into a storage room behind a pile of boxes.

"We'd best hurry." Spock said. "It's only a matter of time before we are discovered."

Kirk nodded. "I'm with you on that one. Ensign, cover us."

Sheltered between Kirk and the Ensign, Spock was able to take his readings unhampered. For such a large area, he was mildly surprised to see that hardly any life forms existed on the top level. Most were stationary; only a few were moving, and they were in a different area than the _Enterprise_ party.

"There is a staircase to the second level down this hallway, Captain," Spock announced after several minutes of fruitless searching. "I suggest we take it. Though it is more populated, there seems to be more rooms."

Kirk was currently looking into what looked like a washroom. With a grin, he pulled out a white lab coat. "What do you know? They left us presents." After tossing two to Spock and the security guard, Kirk pulled on his own, making sure that he had easy access to his phaser should he ever need it. In fact, there was a pocket that held the phaser well- it was as if it was designed with that in mind. Well, either that or holding a tranquilizer gun. He decided not to dwell on the matter. Grabbing another for Scotty and folding it, he tucked it into his belt and covered it with his coat.

Spock was more difficult to disguise. His ears were a beacon, so after some fancy improvisation involving socks and a belt, the Vulcan sported an odd turban-like hat that threatened to fall off at any given moment. Optimistically, Kirk said, "Well, that'll do it! Let's go, gentleman."

They descended the stairs, trying to look like they fit in with the sudden rapid-moving crowd. Staying close together, they joined the current, trying to watch what doors revealed what office, where the people were going, and what they were doing. Many of them had padds in hand as they traversed the passage, but some carried other objects, like glass vials, beakers, dishes, and strangely colored liquids. Spotting a door that read 'Records', Kirk motioned toward it; he and his companions veered toward the door, entering a relatively empty room lined with shelves and computer terminals. Spock uncovered his tricorder, connected it to the nearest terminal and began downloading the information. The ensign stayed on lookout, and Kirk wandered around the room, reading the labels on each terminal to see if he could find hints to Scotty's whereabouts.

"Stardate 223300 – 223320 . . . Stardate 223331 – 223351 . . . ah, here we go. Security." Kirk activated the terminal, and then began browsing through the most recent files. Most were video clips of the hallways, and when he found the one of him, Spock, and the security members entering, he deleted it. To his consternation a window popped up as a bland voice asked him for the code. Frowning, he said, "Spock, how is the downloading process going?"

"Well, Captain. I seemed to have found the main computer; the process of all files and records are nearly complete."

"Good. Hurry it up. Ensign, any sign of alarm?"

"No, Captain, all's normal . . ." The ensign suddenly fell silent as the door began to open. Panicking, the ensign launched himself at a nearby terminal, activating it and opening a random file. Spock's tricorder disappeared, and Kirk exited out of his current window, clicking on another file.

". . .until further notice. I'm concerned with the progress on Subject A-456, however. She isn't responding to treatment, and there are no signs of growth. If there is no change within the next twenty-four hours, I'm going to have to hand her over to Regency." The man seemed to be talking to someone via a comlink; he only glanced in Kirk's direction before activating a terminal a few rows away from Spock. "Yes, yes, I know. She was a very hopeful candidate. Perhaps next time."

The man continued to chat, and Kirk relaxed slowly. He had finally found the file that had recorded Scotty, and Kirk followed the camera's trail as Scotty was led down to the second level, unconscious, past Kirk's current position and down three more hallways before being thrown into a room. The man who had found him then waited until a group of three men arrived; he left the area, talking urgently.

Relieved that Scotty, at least, hadn't been injured, Kirk tried to see if his Chief Engineer had been moved since the video saw him last; unfortunately, the files ended at that point.

The man on the comlink was still talking. "Eh? Oh, right, him. I believe he was moved this morning. Hunter said something about transporting him to T-6 . . . what? He's been scheduled for testing? My god, isn't that a little hasty? I mean, we don't even know who he is . . . oh, well then, never mind. Send me the results, would you? I want to see how they turn out." He clicked off his terminal, and then exited the room, muttering to himself.

As soon as the door closed behind him Kirk spoke up. "I found out where they are holding Scotty. Spock, is the download complete?"

"Affirmative," Spock replied, turning away from the terminal. "All information is downloaded and ready to be reviewed."

Kirk nodded. "Alright. Ensign, get your phaser ready. You may need it soon."

The security member swallowed, but nodded determinedly. After making sure their disguises were still intact and Spock's 'hat' wasn't falling, they entered the stream once more and followed Kirk as he led the way to Scotty's room. For some reason, the flood of people had slowed down to an even trickle. Whereas before there had been a good twenty people around them before, there was now around five or six. It did not make the task easier; rather, they were more noticeable. Spock gained some strange stares as he passed.

Kirk turned down the hallway that held Scotty's room, and they pretended to be conversing over a blank padd that Kirk had nicked from an earlier passerby until they were alone. Pulling out his phaser, the ensign blasted at the door until it had melted, and pushed it open.

Scotty was nowhere to be found.

Kirk raced into the room, finding nothing but an empty bed and a screened-off toilet. Whirling, he said, "He should be in here! Where is he?"

Spock had entered with him, and said calmly, "It appears Mr. Scott has been moved. Are you certain that this is the right room?"

"Of course! I played the file multiple times so I could memorize it . . ." his mouth went dry. "Wait a minute. That researcher, the one who was in the room with us . . . he said that someone had been moved."

Spock blinked. "Ah. Yes, that would make sense. After all, they would have no reason to keep him here where we can find him."

Angrily, he clenched his hands. "We were so close, dammit!"

"All is not lost, Captain. After all, I have the files from the computer, so we may be able to find a record somewhere that mentions Mr. Scott." Spock replied. "But we must leave. We have lingered too long already."

Almost immediately phaser fire erupted outside. Kirk and Spock both looked toward the door; the ensign was firing. "They're on to us!" He shouted. "Go on; I'll cover you!"

Kirk swore, pulling out his own phaser and leaping into the melee. Four short rapid bursts later, and their attackers were down. "Move it!" Kirk ordered, and they high-tailed it down the corner.

They didn't get far before running into another group. More shots were exchanged, and the ensign gave a cry as a red beam tore through his chest; he fell, unmoving, to the ground. Startled, Kirk froze in horror as Spock finished off the last of their adversaries. Kneeling down by the dead ensign, Kirk felt his stomach knot up and he just knew that he was going to be sick.

"Captain, we must leave." Spock said. Kirk nodded wordlessly, though he refused to move until he had slung the body over his shoulders. No one deserved to die in a place like this, and Kirk would not leave him behind. Even though it would hinder his aim, Kirk kept a firm hold on the young ensign.

The trip back seemed to take on a dream-like quality through Kirk's eyes as a mixture of adrenaline and sorrow coursed through his system.

His ears thudded with his heartbeat . . .

. . . a phaser beam screeched past his head to bury itself in the wall. . .

. . . someone shot at the opposing force, but he didn't know if he had lifted the phaser in his hand. . .

. . . the security guard at the door was yelling, firing at something behind Spock. . .

. . .and blissfully, all thoughts faded to gold and silver swirls of light.

"Get a medical team up here now!"

Reality flooded him, and Kirk suddenly found himself in the transporter room, kneeling over the dead ensign. The transporter attendant was already speaking into his headpiece, and Spock was waiting patiently by the entrance. A minute later a medical team rushed in, the doctor kindly moving Kirk out of the way before running a tricorder over the ensign's body. "Dead by phaser fire," he announced. "Nurse, prepare a table for an autopsy."

Whatever was said next was cut off as the doors slid shut behind Kirk as he left. Unevenly, he walked to the briefing room, clasping his head to ward off the sudden headache.

He had a few moments to gather his thoughts, not that there was much to gather. Only two thoughts seemed to be revolving in his head, one being, _where is Scotty now? _And the other reminding him, quietly, that _it was his first mission. His first mission and you let him die._

_ Shut up,_ he shot back. _Shut up. You were warned that this would happen. You can get over it. Over half your graduating class died a year ago, this is no different._

_ But it is. Those others weren't relying on you to keep them safe. You weren't their captain._

Trying to ignore the voice in his head, Kirk pushed the button on the desk. "Kirk to Uhura. Has Stephenson returned?"

There was only a slight pause. "No, Captain. She is not scheduled to return until another hour."

"Contact her and tell her to cut the tour short, and come to the briefing room as soon as she beams back aboard. You and Spock come as well. There's some information that we need to look at." A part of him wished his voice would sound as hurt as his soul. But no, it was as calm and steady as ever. Despite the fact that one of his crew members had just died, he was still exuding confidence and control. Was this what he would one day become? A robot, unfeeling of anything, only alive for the glory of command?

Suddenly, Jim Kirk felt very, very scared.

Uhura and Spock arrived shortly, both quiet. Spock must have told Uhura about the dead ensign, because for once Uhura made no comment, only gave him a reassuring look as she sat down beside her lover. Kirk didn't meet her gaze. If he looked at her now, he wasn't so sure he would continue to look so professional.

His struggle only increased when Alandria entered, looking expectant. "Well? Did you find him?" She asked, smiling. It faded when she received no answer. "What happened?" She demanded.

"Mr. Scott has been moved to a new location." Spock answered when it was clear Kirk would not respond. "Though I have gathered information regarding the activities of the tunnels, we have yet to see if any of them mention the engineer."

Alandria took a seat across from her Captain. "Let's look through them. The sooner we do so, the better."

Spock complied, hooking the tricorder into the computer terminal. After a few clicks, the computer projected the recordings onto the wall, and Spock filed through them.

At first, there was nothing out of the ordinary. Expenses, rosters, schedules . . . Spock flicked through them quickly, but suddenly stopped when Alandria said, "Wait."

What seemed to be a doctor's report showed up on the screen, and Alandria read it, her face tightening. "Computer, pull up additional files regarding current subject," She said.

The computer complied, and soon a series of pictures began appearing. At first, they showed a normal human with Asian features staring at them in confusion. Then, slowly, the person began changing.

It was first evident in the skin. They began to have a greenish tint, with sores breaking out around their mouth. Then wrinkles appeared as they aged within days, going from their early twenties to late nineties in seconds. By the time it showed the final picture, they were unrecognizable, with growths sprouting all over their body and no hair to speak of. According to the dates on the photos, it had happened in the span of three weeks.

Similar files were found, all with the subject aging and changing rapidly and dying in a few weeks time. Sickened, yet unable to turn away, all four watched as incident after incident appeared, faded, and was replaced.

"Stop," Uhura said, sounding strangled. "I can't look anymore."

Spock, looking far more emotional than he ever had before, cleared his throat. "Computer, locate and display any records concerning crewmember Montgomery Scott."

The computer whirred, and soon a single screen flashed in what seemed to be an email. It was a long correspondence and full of technical jargon over experiments that only Alandria and perhaps Spock understood, but Scotty was mentioned toward the end.

_"As for the intruder, he finally spoke today. I learned that his name was Montgomery Scott, and that he was an officer for Starfleet. I turned him over to Hunter. He would have more use with him than I would."_

Silence descended upon the group. As each struggled to face the fact that their individual hopes had been shattered in different ways, Alandria finally said, "Computer, locate files concerning Hunter."

Suddenly, a flood of images appeared, and Spock commented, "It appears that more detailed examination is required. Captain, if I may, I'd like to look through them as soon as I am able."

"Start right now," Kirk said, dully. "Uhura, what did you learn from Sopthern?"

The Communications Officer shrugged. "He was more than happy to give us the original blueprints for the tunnels, but warned me that they have changed significantly from the initial plans. He also asked for a conference with you as soon as you returned. I have a feeling that he's hiding something, Captain. I think it best if you talk to him soon."

He nodded. "Alandria? What about you?"

The doctor took a deep breath. "All is as it should be. In fact, it seems that the Medical facilities are the best equipped. All their supplies are new and functional, the staff is competent and dedicated, and I could not find a sign of neglect anywhere. I even spoke to a few of the patients, and their trust in the staff was sincere." Shaking her head, Alandria continued. "It confuses me. I would think that the hospitals and clinics would be in just as much disrepair as the other areas of concern, but that is not so."

"Maybe that's because the medical facilities actually have a purpose, whereas the others do not," Uhura mused. "The world's inhabitants constantly need medical attention."

Kirk stood. "I'll ask Sopthern about it. Everyone's dismissed."

They filed out, but Alandria grabbed Kirk's arm as he headed toward the bridge. "There's something else, isn't there?" She asked. "Something else happened down there. You look as though you've been kicked in the head by a horse."

"Feels like it." He replied. "Go down to sickbay; I'm sure someone will fill you in. I have other matters that are more important than a therapy session." Though Kirk hadn't meant to be rude, he found he didn't really care. At least, not until he saw Alandria's eyes flash with annoyance. Straightening, the doctor said in a detached voice, "Very well, Captain. I'm sorry I detained you." Pivoting on her heel, she marched away, her spine stiff.

There was no time to dwell on her hurt feelings. Kirk had a call to make, and a friend to save. Resuming his path to the bridge, Kirk pushed all thoughts of Alandria aside and focused on what he was going to ask Sopthern.

/////////////

Waking up in an unknown room is a daunting experience for anyone, especially when the last thing you remember was that you were scared of something. This was especially true for McCoy, whose first instinct when he found himself in a hospital bed was to yell at whoever he laid eyes on.

Fortunately for the scarce doctors and nurses at the station, they weren't around. So instead of feeding his fear and uncertainty into yells, McCoy was left with his second option: get out.

After looking up at the readings the biobed was displaying and satisfied that nothing was going to stop functioning should he leave, he proceeded to sit up and remove the various equipment attached to him after seeing what they were and what they were doing. The device that recorded brain waves? It could go. The IV? Gone as well. Standing, McCoy noticed with a detached interest that he was dressed in nothing but a blue hospital gown, which covered all the private bits of his anatomy but not much else. Not that he really cared. Having been in worse predicaments McCoy thought that this was a walk in the park.

He hadn't taken two steps when the door to his room opened, and a nurse gave a startled cry when she saw her patient up and walking with a dark expression. Hands fluttering, she stammered, "Please, sir, get back in bed! You're still recovering from exposure to a cyanide compound."

Rolling his eyes, McCoy pushed past her. "I feel fine, and I know better than anyone that if I didn't die by now, I won't die in the next ten minutes. All my vitals are operating splendidly, not that you had much to do with that, I'm assuming." He missed the _Enterprise_. At least his nurses knew when to leave someone alone. The brainless dolt trailing after him didn't understand the word 'no'.

"Where is my uniform?" he muttered. This wing of the facility was new to him, and as he examined each door he grew more and more annoyed. Finding a man who seemed to be in charge of this place, McCoy demanded, "I'm recovered, so give me my uniform. I need to report to my station."

Startled, the man said, "Sir, you've hardly recovered. Cyanide compounds take days to flush out of a system, and you were exposed for quite some time. If you'd just return to your room . . ."

"I'm leaving," McCoy growled. "I'll leave right now if I have to, doctor's orders or no."

"Sir, please, if you'd just calm down, we can talk this over."

"I am calm! And I don't need to talk it over. I've dealt with worse cases of cyanide exposures, and this is nothing!"

Throughout their exchange the hapless nurse had been fluttering like a nervous butterfly. Finally, she squeaked out, "Doctor . . .!" And both men swiveled to look at her. "What?" McCoy barked as her superior gave an even, "Yes?" Startled, she looked between both of them before whimpering.

McCoy sighed gustily. "Spit it out, nurse. I don't have all day."

She jumped. "Um, right, I, err, sir, I have errands."

The doctor nodded. "You're dismissed." Relieved, the nurse scuttled off. Turning back to McCoy the man said, "I believe I'm the qualified doctor, and if I say you're not recovered, you're not recovered." He delivered the speech with the tone that made it clear he believed that McCoy would listen. Sadly, McCoy did not. "How long have you been practicing, and where did you graduate?" He asked.

The doctor looked taken aback. "I've been here for two years, and I graduated from Kansas State University."

"Any prior jobs?"

"No, I came here directly after graduation . . ." He stopped when McCoy jabbed a finger at him. His eyes narrowed, McCoy said, "Listen here, kid. I've been sewing up bodies and replacing limbs before you were out of diapers. I have worked in five different hospitals, was the head of surgery in two, and have been the CMO onboard a starship for the past year. I was top of my class in Starfleet Academy, and despite using dysfunctional and missing equipment, saved the lives of nearly all my crewmembers during the worst catastrophe to ever strike the Federation. So when I say I am recovered, I mean that _I am recovered._ Understood?"

The doctor looked between McCoy, McCoy's finger, and the nearest escape route. "Ah, yes sir, I understand you clearly."

"Good. Now get me a uniform so I can leave."

The doctor was more than happy to leave the scene. Breathing deeply and trying to keep his emotions in control, McCoy leaned against the nearest wall. Wishing desperately that he had a mint julep on hand, he waited for the doctor to return with an outfit.

He didn't wait long. After handing him McCoy's old uniform, the doctor showed him to a room and hurried away, no doubt to a private room where he could recover his lost nerves. Silently McCoy dressed, not even bothering to seek out the medical staff to thank them. He would send a letter or something later if he got the chance. Exiting the medical wing, he paused a moment to get his bearings straight.

Though McCoy wanted to know how his lab was operating, he knew that he had to return to his room first to see if he had received any messages concerning his job. Hopefully, the room had been fumigated. If not, someone was going to have a very displeased doctor on their hands.

Luckily for whoever was in charge of the rooms McCoy entered a safe environment, but from the vase of flowers on his desk he knew someone besides the cleaning crew had entered. Picking up the card, all his negative emotions vanished when he read it.

_Welcome back to the world of the living! Hope you get better soon._

_ -From all of us at the lab._

_ P.S. This is Lillian. If you look under your bed, there's a surprise for you. See you later!_

Smiling, McCoy put the card down and went over to his bed. Getting down on the floor, he stopped in confusion when he heard an odd purring noise. Only when he pulled out a cardboard box and looked inside did he understand.

It was a white, fuzzy tribble, with a small patch of black on what could be either the head or the tail. As if sensing him, the tribble's cooing intensified, and McCoy picked it up, stroking the animal's fur. Another letter had been taped to the bottom of the box, this one from Lillian.

_I found this guy in Juniper's cage when I woke up. Apparently, she liked the chocolate so much she gave birth to this little guy! I hope you like him. And don't worry about the labs- I'll look after them for you. _

McCoy found that room had grown warm again. Smiling down at the tribble he held, he said, "Well, what do you know? That's a woman who thinks of everything." Putting the tribble back in the box and moving its temporary cage to his desk, he grabbed his lab coat and slung it on before turning on the computer. Clicking the message icon, he sighed with relief when the only two messages were the weekly update from Waters and rambling one from Yagel. Deciding he would answer it later, he made sure the tribble couldn't escape before leaving the room.

From the brief glance he had given to his clock, his shift was already halfway over, but he felt like going to the lab was the right thing. Not only was he behind in his work, but he wanted to personally thank his lab members. Besides, he would be able to do something productive. Hanging out in his room had appeal, but not much in the form of entertainment.

When he entered the lab, all heads turned toward him in a happy exclamation of 'Welcome back!' Lillian, who had careened around the corner when she heard him enter, gave him a tight hug which he enthusiastically returned. In fact, it would have been the perfect reunion had a disapproving Waters not suddenly materialized behind Lily's left shoulder. "Back to work!" she barked, and instantly everyone went quiet. After rolling her eyes, Lily passed McCoy a swift wink before returning to her station.

"I thought you weren't going to be back until three days from now," Waters said, eyeing him critically. McCoy resisted the urge to talk back. "I have a fast recovery rate, ma'am." He replied. "The doctor let me go early."

"Humph. McCoy, I'd advise you to keep a tighter leash on your assistants. I've heard them talking amongst themselves at least once every hour, and talking hampers productivity. Also, there is no reason for you to be researching as well. You are here to observe and control. You cannot do so while tucked away in corner of the lab."

"I'll take it under consideration, Professor," McCoy replied.

After another distasteful look around the lab, Waters exited. A relieved sigh followed after. "We never thought she'd leave," someone muttered from the back.

McCoy went over to his desk. "Arram, Gregory, Lillian, I'd like to see you for a second." He called. The three, after making sure to pause their machines, went up to him. "How'd it go while I was gone?" he asked.

They exchanged glances. "Well, let's just say Waters isn't the best supervisor in the quadrant," Arram said.

Lillian nodded. "When had questions, she would humiliate us of in front of everybody before demanding a double report at the end of the week. When we asked our neighbors, she fussed some more before moving us to a different area in the lab."

"Not to mention that all she did was sit at your desk and stare at us," Gregory added.

"How did testing go? Find anything . . . unusual?"

All three of them pointed to his station. "We left all of our findings over there, sir," Arram explained. "We didn't want her to get her hands on them."

Satisfied, McCoy said, "Smart thinking. Alright, let's get back work. Oh, and thanks for the present. It really made my day."

Lillian looked a little embarrassed. "We weren't sure if you'd like flowers or not. But since it was the only thing we could really give you, well . . ." She shrugged.

"No, I really did like it." He assured her, noticing that her necklace was buttery yellow.

They went to their stations, McCoy picking up the small pile of reports for reviewing. Seeing a pattern develop, he pulled out his padd and compared them. True to his suspicions, he noticed that the most recent batch was an altered form of the past faulty medications, only this time the effects took longer to appear than their original forms. After copying down the information he required, deleting the findings off the individual padds, and returning the padds to their owners, he grabbed a testing tray and returned to his workplace. But instead of running tests, he turned to Lillian and said, "The tribble was a nice gift. Maybe I should bring chocolate more often."

Lily laughed. "Oh, please no, at least, not if it's for Juniper. If I don't watch what she eats than we could very well be drowning in tribbles right now. They multiply faster than rabbits when there's food around."

Thoughtful, McCoy said, "Perhaps I can stop that somehow. I have the technology to do so right here, after all."

Lillian considered. "Alright. I bet that you won't be able to cure it by the end of the year."

"Deal. What are the stakes?"

"If I win, you owe me dinner every night for a month. And if you win, I'll owe you three favors."

He raised an eyebrow. "Three favors as in three wishes?"

"Do you have a better idea?" She asked, hands on her hips. McCoy rubbed his chin. "Hmm. How about if I win, you defer to my superior abilities and plead unworthiness?"

She snorted, going back to her machinery, but a playful smile tugged at her lips. "I like my idea better."

"Well, three wishes it is. How should I call you, genie? I don't exactly have a lamp to rub." McCoy asked, following after her. "Perhaps I should hold your tribble hostage, and whenever I need you I'll let it lose to wreck havoc on the ship. You'll have to go rescue it and I'll be waiting to claim my wish when you arrive."

"How about," She said, arms crossed, "you call me via comlink? Much more convenient and no innocent tribbles will be traumatized in the process."

"But that's no fun," He sighed.

"We have till the end of the year to figure it out," She smiled, letting her arms drop to her sides.

For a moment they regarded one another. McCoy, still remembering how it had felt when he hugged her, swallowed and said, "Well, work won't get done with us chatting."

Looking a little disappointed, Lillian agreed and resumed her tests.

He had fallen back into the routine when it was disrupted with the arrival of a bored-looking woman holding a stack of crates. "Doctor McCoy?" She called, and with a soft curse he went over to her. "Yes? What is it?" he asked.

She jerked her head to the door. "Gordo wants to see you. Something about making sure you were still healthy or something. Do you know where Professor Travis is?"

Assuming that was who the crates were for, McCoy responded, "I believe he works in Agriculture, though I'm not for sure. Ask Professor Yagel, three doors down on the right; he knows where everyone is."

She nodded in thanks and left. Looking over his shoulder, McCoy called, "Watch over everyone, Gregory. And don't let anyone else in unless it's me."

"Got it, sir," Gregory responded.

_Well, on to have tea and crackers with the world's worst boss,_ McCoy thought. Well, maybe 'worst' wasn't the best term to describe Gordo. But he sure wasn't anywhere near as good as Jim, McCoy's Academy professors, nor Doctor Puri (McCoy had admired the man during the short time he had known him). Already planning to give Gordo a piece of his mind, McCoy prepared himself for what was likely to be a very short conversation.

* * *

...... that whole scene with Kirk escaping was a little awkward to me. I tried to portray that he wasn't enitrely all there, mostly functioning on auto-pilot, but now I wonder if I should have just stuck with the original plan and actually described more. Your opinion?

Please give me comments and feedback, even if it is just a simple 'great story. update soon.' Reveiws make me feel all warm and cozy inside.

Oh, and for some shameless advertising, check out my new story, _Nude Beaches and Toga Parties_. It's Girl!Trek, so if you like some twisted humor please check it out. I promise *most* of it will be silly stuff, but there's no harm in giving a look-see, is there? xD


	9. Chapter 9

As I've said in my other story, my internet has been down for several weeks and I was reduced to checking email,etc. through my phone. I have made some last minute-corrections, and in my haste to post this I may have missed some errors. I apologize in advance for any that you may find.

Anyway, enjoy the chapter~

* * *

"Ah, McCoy!" Gordo called as soon as McCoy had entered. "Glad to see you've recovered."

For a moment, all McCoy could do was stare. Gordo was . . . different. For once, he had a neat, groomed appearance, practical yet finely-made clothes, and his desk had been cleaned. He was sitting casually back in his chair, hands folded over his ample belly, and a genuine smile on his face. For a moment McCoy wondered if this was the same man that had greeted him upon his arrival. Perhaps McCoy had judged him too harshly? Through the lens of anger and annoyance, it would be easy to view anyone as incompetent.

"I am too, sir," McCoy finally managed. "I was lucky that whoever tried to poison me didn't know that I've experienced cyanide poisoning in the past." There was that business on Adelania when the natives had been convinced that Kirk was their resurrected god, and in order to sway him to their side McCoy, Spock, and their security detail had been gassed. Luckily, Kirk had found a way to break the machine before they could perish. The natives hadn't been thrilled, and Kirk had been arrested as a heretic. Fortunately Scotty had been able to beam him up before any damage could be done.

Gordo nodded. "Yes, very much so. Now, may I ask how you've been adjusting?"

"I've been doing well, sir, but it has been only a few days since I arrived. I'm still getting used to the environment."

Gordo didn't seem surprised. "We all had difficulties, but rest assured it will grow on you, in time." Though McCoy doubted that, he refrained from saying anything.

"Now, as to why I've called you here," Gordo said. "I've heard rumors that you have been asking questions about the Choosing."

Immediately, alarm bells began ringing in McCoy's mind. "Well, sir, I'm still learning about this place, and the Choosing intrigues me. I haven't dealt with something like it before." Studying Gordo like he would one of his patients, McCoy noticed every minute detail. Gordo was perspiring slightly, there was a faint nervous twitch in his hands, and he was avoiding direct eye contact. Something was bothering him.

"I realize that, and I believe we can help each other." Gordo said, and now McCoy noticed the gleam in the man's eyes. "I have been aspiring to get off this rock for some time, and if you are willing to help me do so, I'll be willing to help you in kind. I have eyes and ears in here still, Doctor, and all my resources will be available to you as well."

Bribery, McCoy thought with disgust. So that was what this was all about.

Calmly, McCoy replied, "Sir, I mean no disrespect, but there are problems. I am only a lieutenant commander, and have been in service for little over a year. I have very few connections, and even if someone takes my referral letter into consideration, I fear it will only be spared a few moments' attention." He secretly had no desire to help Gordo rise in the ranks. With one of the Federation's fleet destroyed and thousands of personnel to replace, Starfleet didn't need people like Gordo in prominent positions. If Hunter already had him on strings, who said someone like Orion raiders or Klingons couldn't do the same?

Gordo merely waved away his comment. "You underestimate your position. Your best friend is Captain Kirk, the Federation's Golden Child and hero. If you can get him to talk, then the Admiralty in charge will definitely listen. And I will make it worth your while. What say you to a promotion? Head of Bioengineering? Or what about your division? I'm sure being a simple laboratory head is quite demeaning to a man of your expertise."

"Quite the opposite." McCoy returned. "I like my position. I've learned that sometimes, it's the little things that make the biggest difference."

Shrugging, Gordo leaned forward. "If that's what you like, then so be it. My offer still stands, however, should you ever change your mind."

"Respectfully sir what can you tell me about the Choosing? From the little information I have gathered, it does not seem to be a good thing." McCoy finally said after a long pause. He might as well get to the root of his problems. If all went well, perhaps he could ask about the faulty medication as well.

"It was meant to be a good thing," Gordo replied. "At first, it was a reward for those that performed well. Researchers were given anywhere from a week to a month off for rest and relaxation, but when Hunter came to the base, a lot of things changed. He had some great ideas, plans that would increase the productivity of our labs- I was grateful that he arrived. He didn't mind when I took all the credit for the success, but when I became head, he began to call on favors. He said that because he helped me to this position, I needed to help him in return. He wanted special researchers to help him in his experiments, and I allowed him to pick whoever he pleased. It was the least I could do, after all he had done. But eventually, those that he had picked began to disappear. The first few showed up dead. The rest vanished. Within a few months, the reward became a punishment, and I couldn't stop it. Hunter threatened to expose my lies, and I would be decommissioned."

"You allow this to go on because you're too power-hungry to save innocent lives?" McCoy interrupted, furious. "Do you know how many lives are on your hands because you sat back and watched?"

Gordo frowned. "I know I've done bad things, but look at it from my perspective. From here, I can control Hunter to a degree. With valid reason, I can remove his people from power and insert my own. I can bribe others for information. I can drop Starfleet subtle hints that not all is right here. Why do you think you came? Because I allowed them to think something was amiss."

Despite McCoy's extreme dislike for the man, he had to admit that he did think things through to a degree. But there was so much else he could have done! "So you implied that shady business was being dealt, and therefore indirectly marooned me here."

"When you put it that way, yes," Gordo nodded. "I am sorry. I wouldn't want to give up the CMO position easily, either."

McCoy didn't respond. He didn't trust himself to give a civil answer.

Seeing that for now McCoy wouldn't say anything, Gordo continued. "You and I share a common goal- we want to stop Hunter. I can give you all of the resources and information that I can, so long as you put in a good word for me. What do you think?"

The silence drug on far longer than McCoy had intended, but he wanted Gordo to sweat a bit. And indeed, the commander's perspiration had increased. Finally, McCoy said, "Just protect my team, and I'll do whatever you ask." His tongue felt like lead, and his entire body was quivering. There was nothing he wanted more than to throttle Gordo, but only years of controlling his impulses stayed his hand. Next time, however, he wouldn't be so lenient.

"Wonderful. I'll have someone send you the files right away." Gordo said, sounding pleased.

McCoy turned and left, not bothering to wait until dismissed. A part of him knew that he would one day regret the bargain with Gordo, but the other part of him was determined to do whatever it took to set things right again. And the latter emotion was stronger. No matter what, McCoy would bring this entire system down.

Part of his mood must have projected, because as soon as he entered the lab many fell silent, giving him anxious glances. Gregory simply reported that all had been well before withdrawing to his station, exchanging looks with Arram.

"Everything ok?" Lillian asked quietly when he joined her.

"Just fine," He said curtly. "I need to talk to you after shift."

"Cafeteria, or rooms?" She replied.

He considered. "Rooms. I don't want someone to overhear."

She nodded, turning back to her machinery.

McCoy muttered darkly to himself for the most of his remaining shift, cursing Hunter, Gordo, and on occasion Nero for creating this entire situation. It had been the first time in year since he had mentioned the angry future Romulan, but instead of the name coinciding with bad memories it only fueled his rage and frustration. In fact, he was so absorbed in his dark thoughts that he contaminated three samples, dropped one, and accidentally unaligned his instruments. It took him the better part of an hour to restore it to the original settings, and he was exhausted to the point of collapse when he was done. Negative feelings always drained him, and now it was worse. His entire being radiated negative energy. He wondered how Lillian could stand being so close to him while he was in this mood.

His mutterings now complete, he stared blankly at the machine for the last ten minutes of the shift, mind devoid of the capability for rational thought. It was due to Lily gently brushing his arm that he realized it was time to leave. Gathering his items, he walked slowly to the cafeteria. Though movement helped align his thoughts, he still found himself staring down at his plate in surprise when he sat down.

"Well, I've seen worse," Lillian commented as she prodded the bowl of grapes covered in ketchup. "You aren't going into shock, are you?"

"No . . . at least, I hope not." He said. "Sorry. I just have a lot to sort through."

"The meeting was that bad?"

"Worse." He admitted.

Lillian ate in silence as McCoy went to get a new meal, disposing of his contaminated grapes. Now with a more edible meal of a fruit salad, without grapes, he returned to the table and quickly ingested the food. He wanted to tell Lillian everything as soon as possible.

Twenty minutes later saw them exiting the cafeteria together, their proximity suggesting a familiarity beyond friendship yet just shy of romantic pursuits. Had anyone been observing them, they would have assumed that Lily and McCoy were involved.

Lost in his own thoughts, McCoy led Lily back to his room, allowing her to hold his tribble as he activated his computer terminal. As promised, all information connected with Hunter and the Choosing was enclosed in the email, sent to him by a Professor Hartridge, in charge of agriculture.

Sadly, the information was a little over three thousand words, i.e. not much to work with.

"What a rip-off," Lily muttered after McCoy explained everything that he had discussed with Gordo. "He's getting the better end of the deal."

"I know." McCoy sighed. "But what more can I do?"

She shoved the tribble in his face. "Cheer up. At least we have informants now."

Recoiling from the fuzzy creature, he took it in his hands and moved over to his bed, sitting down with a slight groan. "I'll be happy if I never have to deal with anything like this again."

Lily laughed, sitting down next to him. "So will I."

They sat in comfortable silence, until Lily finally said, "What are you going to name it?"

It took a moment until he realized she was talking about the tribble. "Oh, I was thinking Oreo."

"Oreo? That's . . . original."

He raised an eyebrow. "So is Juniper."

"Touché." Lillian admitted. "But my friend named it, so don't blame me." Seeing his curious look, she explained, "She was getting annoyed that I was taking such a long time, so she named it for me."

"I see." He studied the small creature, turning it around in his hands. As if liking the attention, the tribble squeaked and purred more, wriggling happily. "Well, I'll call it Oreo until you or I think of something better." Standing, he went over to his medkit, taking out the tricorder and running it over the creature, studying its anatomy. Lillian stared at him. "You waste no time, do you?" she asked.

"Nope. I like things done as soon as possible so that I can move on to other tasks that require my attention. Just ask my head nurse. She'll tell you that I'm a slave driver as well as a critic."

"Are you?"

"No on the slave driver, yes on the critic." He admitted. "I gripe about a lot of things." Now done with the analysis, he fed the information into his computer so he could access it at a later date. Its examination done, the tribble was passed back to Lillian as she stroked it. She studied the animal, a faint blush on her face. McCoy looked at her necklace. Most of the flower was pink for embarrassment, but a slight yellow tinge around the petals indicated happiness, as well. What puzzled him was that the center had turned silver. He really needed to find the color guide.

"Bones," She said, "what is your first name?"

The mystery of the silver color was replaced with confusion of her question. "My first name?" he asked. "It's Leonard."

She cocked her head. "Leonard? I see it fitting a small-town country doctor than a big-time CMO."

Grinning, McCoy said, "I grew up in Georgia, Lily. I came from a line of doctors, and, incidentally, a small town. I was planning on returning there to practice medicine before being recruited by other obligations." The main reason had been because of Trisha. She was a city girl, and flat-out refused to live in any 'backwoods colony'. Though McCoy had been offended, he had sacrificed that goal to appease her. In fact, he had sacrificed a lot to make her happy, and for what? Nothing.

Unaware of his hidden brooding, Lily laughed. "Well, then, I guess it does fit. What about your middle?"

This time he hesitated. He had never really liked his middle name, dropping it more often than not. "Horatio," He finally said. "In honor of a long-time friend of my dad's."

Struggling to keep a straight face, Lily said, "Now that is definitely unexpected. I was expecting something simple, like John, or Nick."

"My family is eccentric with names," He grumbled. Then smirked. "Well, what about yours? What's your middle name?"

"Joanna," She replied.

McCoy ceased breathing. Instantly his vision was filled with his nightmare, of a tiny, frail body dying in his arms. He couldn't save her. It was impossible to treat infants with the disease, and no cure had been found that anyone under five could handle. All his medical knowledge meant nothing. Never had he been so vulnerable.

"McCoy? Leonard? Are you alright? What's wrong?" Lillian was worriedly gripping his hand, and he shook himself, forcing a pathetic attempt at a smile. "Sorry, sorry, I just knew someone named Joanna once."

She bit her bottom lip. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize . . ."

"No, no it's not your fault." He assured her. "Forget it. She left my life a long time ago; it doesn't matter now."

Still unconvinced, Lily stood. "I should return to my room. It's late."

"Of course," He said. Though he had no desire to stay alone now that images of his daughter had been conjured, McCoy knew that asking her to stay would only lead to other places of his mind that he had no desire to confront. "Good night."

"Good night," She said quietly. "See you tomorrow."

As the door shut behind her, he had a feeling that tonight, more than one ghost would haunt him.

/////////////////

Kirk entered the bridge, avoiding the eyes of everyone in the area. "Open hailing frequencies," he said, and Uhura nodded as she worked her console. Seconds later Sopthern appeared on the front screen, gravely staring back at Kirk.

"I heard that you entered the tunnels," He said. "I regret the loss of your crewmember."

"He died doing his duty," Kirk said, but there was no feeling in his voice. "It's the least I could have asked."

Sopthern bowed his head. "He will be mourned among my people. But we must get to the matters at hand. Captain, I am sure you have a lot of questions."

"I do indeed," Kirk said. "For one, how could you let this go on, knowing what was happening?"

Sopthern sighed. "We did not know, at first. They offered to pay a generous price for the use of our tunnels, and we were happy to leave them to their business. We weren't aware of their intentions until four months back, when one young guild member disappeared. We had a report that he entered the tunnels, and a few days later he turned up dead in a river. Since then, I have been attempting to monitor them as much as I can."

"But you are on thin ice," Kirk mused, life creeping back into his voice. "They pay you enough to sustain nearly your entire economy, and loosing the revenue would be detrimental."

"Precisely," Sopthern said. "I was waiting until they paid their yearly revenue before granting Starfleet's wish of observation. Now that you have come, however, I can let you dispose of them without worrying about the income."

Grudgingly, Kirk had to admit that Sopthern had thought things through. If the President himself removed the laboratory workers from his planet, then he would in charge of providing currency. However, should the Federation intervene they would pay any lost expenses when the outcome was determined until the Therons were on their feet again. In allowing Starfleet to clean up the mess, Sopthern was not only ensuring his own life would be protected, but ensuring that his world would continue to obtain steady revenue.

"A convenient plan," Kirk said, "But if you want to get rid of those people we need to help each other as much as possible. I will need your guarantee that you will send us all information available regarding the activity in the tunnels, who's in charge, and where their main headquarters are, if you can. In return I will promise you that we will do everything in our power to protect you and your people from whatever transpires between my crew and those in the tunnels."

"Do your best, Captain. I have faith that you will succeed."

Kirk nodded respectfully, hoping that he would share the President's optimism in time. "Why are you telling us this now? What makes you so certain that we are the ones to side with?" Curiosity had finally aroused within him, and he viewed it as a good sign. Maybe now he could face the ensign's death without becoming a robot.

Sopthern steepled his fingers, leaning closer to the view screen. "I expected this question. As you know, Captain, our society revolves around honesty and trustworthiness. So many times in our history we have had civil wars because of lies and deviousness; now, we strive to be true to ourselves and others to avoid conflict. As soon as we realized our guests went against our policies, we knew that we had to get rid of them, lest their ways corrupt ours. We cannot trust them. Now you, on the other hand, are young and determined. You are the type of person who will do anything to right the wrongs others have inflicted. We trust you. I pray that you do not abuse this trust."

Though the President's eyes were calm, Kirk detected a layer of intense scrutiny radiating from the man. Sopthern may lead simplistic people, but he himself was no pushover, necessary in his position. Getting the feeling that everything he did from here on out would be analyzed and studied fastidiously Kirk replied with an even tone. "I will try not to disappoint, sir."

As though satisfied with the answer, Sopthern leaned back, relaxing. "Do you have anything else you wish to discuss? Otherwise, I would send up the information you requested as soon as we have finished."

"I have one more. Why is it that the medical facilities are lively, while the rest of the guild halls are in a state of disrepair and undermanned?"

Sopthern blinked owlishly. "Ah. I see you noticed that. As you very well know, we are a small planet in an out-of-the-way position. We rarely obtain new equipment for that reason. Just recently a cargo ship allowed us to upgrade our medical supplies, but we are still awaiting machinery for Engineering, Research, and the other guilds. As for the low staff, I fear that murder has been plaguing my halls. It is vital that you solve the mystery beneath our soil as soon as you are able, Captain. I have been losing too many of my people lately."

A coil of pain and sympathy for the President knotted in Kirk's stomach. "I am through for now, President. Thank you for your time."

Sopthern inclined his head once more as the screen winked out.

Kirk closed his eyes. "Spock, are you prepared to receive the data?"

"Affirmative, Captain."

"Great. I'll be down in sickbay if anyone needs me in the next few minutes. I owe Doctor Stephenson an apology. Spock, you have the conn."

Kirk left the bridge, but the Vulcan science officer made no move to claim the chair. Whereas with Pike Spock had taken the seat when the former Captain had left the ship, Spock knew that now, the chair was Kirk's. He had obtained it in a rather unorthodox means, but it was his nonetheless. The only time Spock would feel comfortable taking it would be when Kirk was off the ship during a crisis situation, which even to him would be highly unlikely. Besides, even though it had been a year since they had begun serving together Spock was still trying to understand his young captain. He didn't know how he would react.

His computer beeped at him, signaling the beginning of the transfer. Focusing on the incoming data, he forgot all thoughts about the symbol of command and began his work.

Three decks below, Kirk was currently travelling on the turbolift, apprehensive about apologizing to Alandria and saddened at seeing the state of his dead ensign. No doubt an autopsy was already underway, though death by phaser fire was already determined. Still, shoulder wounds could be treated if the medical team operated fast enough. Whether or not the arm would be fully functional afterward was up to the skill of the surgeon and the severity of the wound.

Kirk entered a relatively quiet sickbay, with only two nurses quietly tending to their tasks. Hesitating in the doorway, he looked around to see where his current CMO would be- to his left were the ICU rooms, ahead were the bio labs and storage rooms, and to his right was McCoy's office. Deciding to start with the office, he went over to it and thumbed the touch-sensitive screen set into the wall. A small 'ding' sounded from within the office; when he heard a faint 'come in', he entered.

Alandria was working on reports, typing away on her computer console with a glowing padd in her spare hand. At first, she was concentrating on the screen and didn't seem to notice his presence; only after she had finished did she look up, face neutral. "May I help you?" she asked.

"I wanted to apologize." He said. No use beating about the bush. "It's just . . . I've never lost someone under my command before during a mission, and I wasn't entirely there when I spoke to you."

Alandria placed her stylus and padd down on the desk, sighing. "I know. I've lost my fair share of patients, and I still remember the first one that died while under my care. I was traumatized for the longest time. Still am, actually." She stood so she could walk over to him. "Captain, you will lose many people under your command throughout the years. Ensign Truman won't be the last. But you need to talk about it with someone, whether it is me, or Spock, or Doctor McCoy. Keeping it inside will only make the pain worse. Trust me. When I lost those three men in my shuttlecraft . . . I didn't speak for three weeks. Only after attending several therapy sessions did I recover."

"I don't need therapy, Alandria. I just . . . I just need to know why." Frustrated, he ran his fingers through his hair. "It was his first mission. He didn't deserve to die."

"No one does." She replied quietly. "But there are some things we just cannot change."

He turned toward the door. "I need to think. I still need to write a letter to his parents."

"I need to contact Lieutenant Norman. Ensign Truman was her boyfriend. They're expecting a baby." The couple had decided to keep the child after a long discussion, with initial reluctance in the beginning on Norman's end. Now, however, Alandria wasn't so sure what she would decide. Without the help of a partner, Norman would have difficulty being a single mom on a military starship.

Kirk shook his head. "This day just keeps getting worse and worse." He could still remember what it was like growing up without a father figure, and felt pity for the kid. Life wouldn't be easy.

"Doctor? The results are in."

Alandria ushered the nurse in, examining the readouts, as Kirk left. She was asking questions when the door slid shut, blocking out her voice. Kirk went back to the bridge, walking over to the science station. "How's it coming, Spock?" he asked.

Spock continued to study the readouts. "The tunnels vary differently from our scans, as the current occupants have expanded them intensively. They are currently under the direction of a man named Tristan Hunter, and are engaged in research regarding a range of topics, including the cure for different types of cancer, stem-cell research, organ regeneration, and cloning."

Puzzled, Kirk asked, "Cloning? I thought that was banned years ago."

Spock shrugged. "Nevertheless, it is one of their minor focuses."

"It will explain the reasons for those… experiments." Kirk mused. "Have you found any data about them, by any chance?"

"Yes. They were attempts to destroy certain strands of human DNA that caused genetic inheritance of Turner's Syndrome. It failed."

"I could see that from the pictures," Kirk replied. "Anything else?"

"The man named Hunter is the current head researcher, and sees to all the expenses and decisions regarding the facilities. Their current headquarters are unknown, but Hunter claims that they are run by a private corporation called Millennium, Incorporated."

Wryly, Kirk said, "Rather narcissistic of them, to assume they'll last for a millennium."

Giving the tiniest of shrugs, Spock returned to studying the readout.

"Uhura," Kirk called, "If Sopthern contacts me again, pipe it down to my quarters."

She nodded. "What about Starfleet?"

Kirk hesitated, and then said, "Send it to me as well. I don't want to risk angering a higher power."

He entered the turbolift, leaning against the wall. His face expressionless, he watched as a yeoman entered, left, and was replaced by a security member before his deck came. Hastily he left, turning his thoughts away from his companion and wondering just why his room was several decks below the bridge. If the designers had had any common sense, they would have made it next to or closer to the bridge. Hopefully they would include that in future designs.

Entering his room, Kirk sat down in front of his computer terminal, opening up a subspace channel. He hesitated. What would he say? Ensign Truman wasn't one he commonly talked with, and he knew very little of the many beyond his relationship with Norman and his fascination with old-fashioned baseball cards. He had amassed quite a collection, and they were his pride and joy- he could go on for hours about them. At the time, Kirk had listened with only half an ear; perhaps now he should have been more interested.

Kirk began the recording. "Mr. and Mrs. Truman, it is to my utmost regret that your son, Randy, has died. Be assured that he did so with honor and bravery." He paused. "I know that this must be an emotional time, and if you want to quit this message now, I will understand.

"I did not know Randy as well as I would have liked, but the few times I had the privilege of being in his presence I knew that he was a loyal, smart, and dedicated man who always put others before him. He died protecting my life while trying to rescue a captive crewmember, and if it weren't for him I wouldn't be here. I am indebted to his memory. If there is anything you want from me, anything at all, just ask me of it and I promise that I will do everything in my power to comply.

"Once more I will say what an honor it was serving with your son. I will never forget him."

Kirk ended the recording, and after a moment of hesitation sent it. He still had to send Starfleet a report, but that could wait. He had had enough of that for one day.

Walking over to his bed, he collapsed on top of the sheets. He was out in seconds.

* * *

This chapter was a little depressing, wasn't it? Sorry. I'll try to add humor in there soon.

So, what did you think? I'll give a penny for your thoughts if you push that green button below~


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10 here!

Gaaah, Senior year is crazy :/ Scholarships, SAT/ACT, honors courses, Dual Credit drama, one act, athletics... shoot me, please D:

I have still managed to find time to write this little installment, however. Enjoy!

* * *

Norman hesitated outside the door, her hand hovering over the comm. She had gotten off shift early, when Scotty's second-in-command had found her crying over the pieces of a warp coil she was supposed to be fixing. He had understood, but it had given Norman some time to think of her next move. She couldn't be breaking down in the middle of a crisis situation. And her baby… she had to think of its intentions as well. After all, he – or she- was the only thing she had left of Randy.

A rec crew member passed her, and she jumped guiltily. If people saw her hovering outside this particular door, they might get the wrong idea. Everyone knew she was distraught, and already she had tried finding someone to blame, herself included. Even the baby had been considered, but after the nurse had calmed her down, she had seen reason.

Her finger pressed the button, and after a few seconds Kirk's voice sounded. "Who is it?" He asked, voice rough. Had she woke him up? If so, she could into trouble…

Swallowing, she managed to say, "Lieutenant Norman, sir."

"Come on in."

The door slid open, and she nervously stepped inside. A small part of her mind was surprised at how small the room was. Indeed, it wasn't much bigger than her own, and sparsely furnished at that. A few knickknacks adorned a shelf in front of the bed and on the desk that held his computer terminal, but other than that it was virtually empty. Nothing about this room gave her any hint as to what her captain was like outside of command, and though a part of her was relieved to discover that he wasn't secretly a stalker or something along those lines, another more dominant part was disappointed that she couldn't see him more as a human than as a Captain.

Kirk seemed to notice her observation. "I don't really have a lot of worldly possessions," He explained. "I was pretty much flat broke before joining Starfleet, and they don't exactly let you have a lot of personal items anyway. Most of the things here are what Pike left on board." He went over to the replicator, sliding in a card. "Want something to drink?"

"Um . . . yes, please," She stammered. Kirk withdrew two cups of coffee seconds later, and handed one to her with a smile. "Here. This will help you calm down."

Gratefully she took it, and after he asked her to she sat hesitantly down in a nearby chair. He dragged his desk chair around from behind it and placed it next to hers, taking a sip of his drink. Sighing, he said, "Replicators are a feat of engineering genius, but there's nothing like a real home-made cup of coffee."

Norman nodded, not knowing what to say. They sat in silence for a while until Kirk finally spoke again. "Is there something you wanted to speak about?"

She stared at her cup. "Captain, I want to request a leave of absence."

Kirk didn't respond. When she finally looked up she found he was regarding her with those sky-blue eyes of his, the eyes that made you want to trust him, yet hid so much from everyone. His face showed no anger, surprise, or sorrow; only a calm acceptance that somehow made her feel worse. Norman continued before she lost her courage. "I was crying for no reason during shift today when I was supposed to repairing a warp coil. I can't concentrate on my work, and should a crisis occur I will only be detrimental to the department. Plus, the baby . . . I can't care for both of us as well as I should. I need some time alone to find how I'm going to survive. Please, give me a month, two at the most, and I promise you I'll be back and give one hundred percent of my energy to my job. Please. I just . . . I can't do it right now."

Kirk was silent. Norman's gaze was rooted on the floor, tears welling up in her eyes. As he looked at her, he was reminded of his mother- a woman who lost her husband in battle, with a baby to care for and no way to know if she would make it. He was reminded of himself, being haunted by the memory of a father who was little more than a painful reminder of _before_, and wishing his mother would acknowledge the _now_. He remembered how hard it was for her to raise both him and Sam, escaping into the dark silence of space to regain some sense of her husband's presence, leaving them alone with a man who loved alcohol almost as much as he hated Jim and Sam.

Kirk laid a hand on her shoulder. "As soon as we're done with business on this planet, I will drop you off at Sigma Epsilon Space Station, where you can take a shuttle to anywhere you please. Take as long as you want, and should you wish to return to duty, The _Enterprise_ shall welcome you back with open arms. Should you decide that your path lies elsewhere, I promise that I shall help you in any way you can in your future career."

As Norman looked at this man, she saw someone who understood her completely and meant what he said. Peace crept over her being, and though she knew that she would continue to mourn Randy, the first step to moving on had been taken.

"Thank you," she whispered. Kirk merely nodded, and she left with a lighter heart.

Kirk remained in his quarters, contemplating Norman's fate and his own. The woman's plight had unnerved him, reminding him of his own life, and how difficult it had been. Though exceptional luck and reckless chances had landed him where he was today, he knew that it wouldn't happen to anyone else anytime soon.

His eyes settled on a figurine on his desk, and he picked it up, turning it over in his hands. He vaguely remembered it as some Orion artifact, a pre-historical carving that was relatively expensive but interesting nonetheless. It must have been some sort of meditation device, because the colors began to swirl and meld together as he played with it, and he found it easier to think.

Norman was temporarily forgotten as his mind turned toward the problem on Theron. His expedition down into the tunnels made it clear that flushing everyone out would be harder than he imagined, and even if every single member of his crew picked up arms to fight, it would be a close one. And since the medical staff had taken a vow to never intentionally kill someone upon graduation, he couldn't include them, which reduced his numbers. It would take more planning, strategizing, and tactics then the first attempt had, which relied on stealth rather than straight offense. And with Scotty still missing, he was unsure how to continue. An attack would risk having the records destroyed, but waiting could very well put Scotty in more danger. Whatever he came up with, he would have to make the decision soon.

The carving had begun to blur more as his tempo increased, and he even began tossing it a bit. Fascinated by the endless number of patterns and color arrangements it provided, he almost didn't hear Spock's voice come over the comm.

"Captain, this is Spock. You need to come to the bridge immediately."

Kirk caught the figure, blinking. How long had he been looking at it? "I'll be right up," he said. Pocketing the artifact, he strolled out of his room, smiling at a yeoman and faintly whistling as he walked down the hallway. A part of him felt the need to go to sickbay and talk to Alandria, but the remaining rational thought steered him toward the bridge with a compromise that he would go after the meeting with Spock.

The doors slid open to the bridge, and he noticed Checkov was missing, with Sulu hovering over a dismantled part of the control panel. An engineering officer was nearby, and they were murmuring to each other as they prodded at different wires.

_Is it time for routine diagnostics already?_ He wondered, and then remembered that Scotty, who usually reminded him of these things, was gone. Kirk sighed. At this rate, all of his senior officers would have to be replaced, himself included, no doubt.

"Spock? What is it?"

The Vulcan turned away from Uhura, who immediately left via turbolift. "I have organized all of the data according to their content, and have sent all the medical records to doctor Stephenson. I have been doing further research into Mr. Scott's whereabouts, and have discovered an interesting fact: Tristan Hunter is nowhere in Starfleet records." Spock said.

Kirk's eyebrows rose. "Nowhere? You sure?"

"Affirmative. I have cross-checked every available database, but unfortunately some are off-limits."

"And you want me to grant you access," Kirk nodded. "Alright. What databases?"

Kirk spent the next half hour granting and getting permission for Spock, working around downed systems due to diagnostics, and pacing for five minutes when the computers were shut down for upgrades. When everything had finally been accomplished to Spock's satisfaction, he received a call from sickbay.

Alandria sounded frantic. "Captain, you have to get down here. It's of the utmost importance! Hurry!"

Kirk was already racing toward the turbolift. "I'm on my way, Doctor! Be there in one!"

Dashing down the halls, Kirk nearly flattened several of his crew members as he sped toward sickbay. Though used to their captain's rather spontaneous panic modes, they had yet to get used to the pattern at which they occurred. Situations on board the starship _Enterprise_ changed constantly, from peace one moment to outright oblivion the next.

He arrived at sickbay in a minute and a half, breathing heavily from adrenaline and worry. Alandria, Chapel, and two other medical bay workers were hovering over a computer terminal; upon noticing Kirk's arrival, they scattered. Alandria, fear flickering in her eyes, gestured at him.

"The information is incomplete," she said, "but I've figured out what the researches are doing on Theron."

Kirk stared at the display. "This is . . . Alandria, this is serious."

"I know. And I have no idea how to stop it."

His mouth dry, Kirk's eyes scanned the document once more. Though he did not understand the complex chemical equations on the screen, the small notes below offered more than enough clarity.

"Alandria, get your team to analyze this as much as you can, and try to find a way to combat this in a worse-case scenario."

"Yes sir." Face drawn with worry, Alandria began copying the document to her padd.

Kirk walked to the terminal. Pressing the button, he heard Spock's voice come over the conn a few seconds later. "Meet me in the briefing room," Kirk said, heavily. "Bring Uhura as well."

Spock did as he asked, and for a long time, Kirk simply stared out the briefing room's window at the planet Theron. Finally, after Uhura was shifting from expectation and nerves and sharing troubled glances with Spock, Kirk spoke. "Alandria has discovered their plans," he said.

Spock and Uhura didn't dare speak. Spock tensed ever so slightly, and Uhura held her breath. There was something about Kirk's posture and expression that said the news wasn't good. Hidden underneath the table, Uhura grabbed Spock's hand. Only when Kirk turned to face them fully did he finally explain what was discovered.

"They are preparing a medicine that will mutate the receiver's DNA over a period of time. The end result is untraceable and unrecognizable, but it will result in the shutdown of every organ system in the body almost simultaneously."

/

McCoy found he couldn't sleep. Not surprising, considering that his nightmare was haunting him in his waking hours, but more played into the condition. Worry over Stephenson, Chapel, and everyone else in his department. Desire to contact Jim and explain what was going on, and hoping he could help. Feeling an attachment to Lillian, yet hesitant about naming the feeling for he wasn't sure if he wanted to repeat the past. He even missed his verbal sparring with Spock, which was the final conviction that he was quite possibly losing his mind.

His mind turned to the samples that he had been carefully watching over the past few days. They had been increasingly more stable, yet still destructive; the effects were taking longer to appear, but increasingly more violent. Though the full effects were so far unknown, McCoy could guess a few possibilities; and none were ideal for the person who received the samples.

Turning on his computer terminal, McCoy pulled out his notes, charts, and data regarding the experiments. He was able to run a few tests from his desk, but not nearly as extensive as the equipment in his lab. Selecting a few notes, he read over them, and then turned his thoughts to the choosing.

Gordo's words echoed through his head. "_It was meant to be a good thing. At first, it was a reward for those that performed well. But Hunter wanted special researchers to help him in his experiments, and I allowed him to pick whoever he pleased. It was the least I could do, after all he had done. But eventually, those that he had picked began to disappear. The first few showed up dead. The rest vanished."_

Hunter was in charge of Research and Development. The very department where these samples were coming from. His group was nothing but tools to further his means. Hunter developed the samples; McCoy ran further tests and sent in the reports to Waters, who no doubt transferred them back to Hunter. The realization that his entire group was being used hit hard. And McCoy's machinery was no replacement for a real human body. It may analyze the components in the sample and hypothesize the likely results, but only a real human body would give the true results. Those chosen . . . they could very well be the unwilling guinea pigs who had the samples injected into them.

A strong wave of nausea swept over him, and McCoy stumbled to the toilet, his lunch and dinner soon forcing its way up his throat. Kneeling over the toilet, he expelled the contents of his stomach.

Shifting his weight to his toes, he pulled back from the toilet, breathing heavily. The idea of using human beings for those purposes still made him sick to the stomach. Whoever Hunter was, he certainly had no humanity left within him. No one who still had a shred of compassion and humanity would ever willingly run such horrendous experiments on a fellow member of their species.

Returning to his computer terminal, McCoy quickly typed out his realization to Hartridge and Gordo, providing heavy references to his experiments with the samples and outlining it extensively. This took up the entire night; when he finally sent it off, it was nearly time for breakfast.

Lillian was waiting for him at their usual place at the table, and seeing his haggard look frowned. "Rough night?"

"You have no idea," He said, moving slowly to the replicator to get his coffee.

Once at the table, he explained his hypothesis to Lillian in a low tone to ensure no one overheard. Her face had paled considerably by the time he was done. "This . . . how could he . . .?" She said, faintly.

He shook his head. "I do not know. But we have to stop this."

She nodded, and he suddenly noticed her necklace had turned a pale grey- fear. Laying a hand on her arm, he said, "Don't worry. I won't let anything happen to you. We will get through this together, and avenge your friend. Hunter, Gordo, this entire base; we'll shut it down for good."

She forced a smile. "I know." Her smile faltered, and then she added, quietly, "I'd like to talk about this more, but in private. Do you . . . do you think you could meet me in my room after dinner?"

He wasn't foolish enough to miss her slight hesitance in the invitation, but he ignored it nonetheless. Somehow, the thought of being in her room appealed to him much more than her in his; his heart beat picked up slightly at the thought. "Sounds like a plan," he said, hoping she couldn't detect the eagerness in his tone.

Lillian turned back to her breakfast, and McCoy did the same. Nostalgic purposes, perhaps from last night's conversation, had driven him to choose grits, fried eggs, and bacon. It had been a while since he had had a good southern meal, and vowed to get chicken fried steak that night at dinner.

That is, if he could even concentrate on dinner. For the first time in a long time, he felt the need to 'eat' something other than food.

His wandering thoughts caused him to redden, and he quickly shoveled the remaining food into his mouth before mumbling a "see you in the lab" to Lillian and fleeing. The thoughts he had of her were embarrassing. Natural, of course, but . . . the feeling of thinking of her in _that way_ was odd. Had it really been that long since he had been involved with a woman? Thinking back, he realized that though he had, on occasion, flirted with members of the opposite sex, he hadn't gone beyond that. There was a couple of close calls, but the first time the unknown-of boyfriend had nearly cracked his skull open with a chair (this was shortly after his divorce, and he was more than a little drunk and desperate for attention), the second the parents had walked in while the girl was pressed up against him in a provocative manner (entirely her fault; McCoy had no way of knowing the girl was, how to say it, a little on the wild side until she nearly jumped him when they were alone), and the third was when he had the strange circumstance of mysteriously being locked up in the same room as Gaila (he was still convinced Jim was to blame for this one, but had never been able to prove it). After that, he had avoided any prolonged conversations with women, since they always seemed to end in an awkward and less than desirable way. That isn't to say he hadn't been attracted to them, for he certainly was. McCoy just hadn't found the right one yet.

Until he met Lillian, he was quite content to live out the rest of his days as a cranky old bachelor. But now . . . well, suddenly, that didn't seem so ideal.

Age wasn't a factor. Yes, he was several years her senior, but he had at least another one hundred years in him yet, as did she. So far as he knew, they were both in perfect health, and if anything, his older status would ensure that he would have a stable job without the flightiness that younger men tended to have. Though life aboard a starship was dangerous, his position was relatively safer than most aboard. Being cooped up in med bay during a crisis was certainly more appealing than being out in the thick of danger. Yes, the first attack by Nero had shown that not even his beloved department was safe, but he put that down to the fact that the _Narada_'s weapons were from the future, and therefore much, much more powerful than those in his day and age. The likelihood of that experience ever being repeated was close to nil.

All in all, he was certain that there wasn't much for others to worry about. He was in a stable job, was able to provide for her and (should he even think it?) their possible future children, wasn't likely to die any time soon, and he certainly did have strong feelings for her. He was hesitant to name the feeling, since his divorce still wounded him deeply, but he knew that whatever he was feeling wasn't likely to go away any time soon.

McCoy was already busy at his work station when Lillian entered, lagging behind a group of his researchers. She stopped to talk to one of her coworkers, and McCoy turned slightly to admire her. Her lab coat wasn't exactly flattering, but he could still trace the outline of her shoulders, back, waist, and legs. She was smaller than he, but in a graceful, elegant way. Her dirty blonde hair hung just above mid-back, he knew, but today she had pulled it up in a loose bun. A few strands of hair had escaped, and framed her attractive face. He swallowed.

Ashamed at how sudden these thoughts had appeared and how much he wanted them to be true, McCoy tore his gaze away and fed a sample into the machinery. The same result as before appeared. Disgusted, he added the data to his padd, deciding that enough was enough. Either he was going to find a way to counteract this abomination, or die trying.

He was scribbling furiously when Lily joined him, peering over his shoulder. "What is that? Some sort of scientific gibberish?"

Snorting, McCoy grunted back, "An attempt to counteract the effects of the sample. I'm making the machine run tests to break it down to its respective elements, and seeing what I can do to neutralize it, if not destroy it."

"Sounds complicated. Need help?"

"I would love that."

They began working, and Lillian put her own sample in to view its components. McCoy sent Gregory to get supplies, and for a few minutes they were writing down the elements that made up the samples. They were already through two trays and were working on the third when Gregory returned.

Using McCoy's desk as the stage for the experiment, they carefully perused their notes and lit the burners, beginning to create their own chemicals and compounds. As McCoy did this, Lillian carefully labeled each bottle of the samples, and then unscrewed the tops, being careful to not bump the table. Contaminating the samples was not something they wanted to deal with.

McCoy made several batches of each of his different chemicals or compounds, and poured a bit of each in every different sample they had on hand. Lillian replaced the tops, and they shook the small glass tubes to make sure the two items mixed. Carrying them back to the machinery, they ran more tests, to see if anything worked.

It didn't.

"Try, try again," Lillian said grimly. "Try introducing more of the tests this time . . ."

Several tests, with the same results even with increasing the amount of their test compounds, ended up making them frustrated and even more depressed at the results than normal.

"This is ridiculous," Lillian finally cried in exasperation, throwing up her hands as she found yet another negative result. "This one is nearly 95 percent of your penicillin compound, and still nothing! It doesn't even make a scratch! How can they create something like this?"

McCoy regarded his vial. "Maybe we're thinking too big," He muttered. "All of these vials contain proteins that attack the hosts DNA; maybe we need something that will protect that."

"Nitrogen compounds?"

"Perhaps. Or we need to inject the possible cures directly into the nucleus of the cell."

"The nucleus?" Lillian was incredulous. "Do you have any idea how small that space is? It'll be a miracle if we get near it, let alone directly within it. Our best bet is to inject it and hope that some cells will absorb it."

He shook his head. "No. Some isn't as good as all; and yes, I do know how small it is. I am a doctor, you know." A wry smile crept into his face. "Besides, all our ideas form crystals that are much too big for the cell to absorb. We need to think of something simple, something that is as much as cell as a cure."

Sighing, she looked over her notes. "An organic compound, then."

"Perhaps." He began to pace, thoughts whirling. "Let's see. DNA is composed of four nitrogenous bases- adenine, thymine, guanine, and cytosine. They are connected by a weak hydrogen bond, and arranged in a tight double helix. These samples all attack these bases, changing their order and composition. Adenine becomes Thymine; Guanine becomes Cytosine, and so on. What we need to do is protect these bases somehow."

Thoughtfully, Lily tapped her stylus on her pad. "Maybe not protect them, per say," She said, "But if we added something to the cells, making them recognize the compounds within these samples as enemies, they'll attack it. Like blood does to another type; A- attacks B+, and vice versa."

"Yes; but these compounds are so alike the proteins that the body produces, it will be difficult to create a receptor for it, if we could even create one in the first place."

A tinkle of glass reached his ears; within a millisecond he spun, looking at horror upon the scene he saw.

A young intern, from the looks of things belonging to a different department, was standing stock-still with two boxes stacked in their arms. Some glass tubes had tipped over and fallen to the floor when the intern accidentally hit the desk; their contents were now on the floor, spreading slowly out across the tile.

Fear, anger, and panic spread throughout McCoy; his voice tight, he glowered at the petrified intern. "Get .Out. Of. My. Lab. Now."

The intern fled.

Silence prevailed. His face one of undisguised anger and worry, McCoy slowly approached the mess, glancing sharply at Arram. "Get the biohazard cleanup kit." He barked, and the man raced to do so.

Kneeling at the edge of the puddle, he was not so overcome with emotion as to not observe the effects. Before, the contents of the vials were slightly opaque; but now, with the compounds mingling, the liquid had turned crystal clear, with a few small, solid-looking black flecks. He counted the damage. Three test tubes from the first tray containing compound A, one from compound B, and two from compound C. Compound C, he knew, was particularly violent; it was clear that some sort of chemical reaction had taken place, and he was curious as to know what it had caused.

He stood, hunting through his desk drawers until he found a brand-new, perfectly clean vial in an unopened box. Armed with that and a dropper, he filled the vial roughly halfway with the new mixture, and then handed it to Lillian to test. That done, he helped Arram carefully clean up, both wearing gloves, goggles, and a protective suit, and making sure the area was perfectly dry before moving on. He would have a sanitation team in here later, after shift was over; for now, it was the best they could do.

McCoy and Arram had just finished cleaning when Lily came back, an odd look on her face and the vial in one hand. "Bones, this doesn't make sense," she said.

"What?"

"The contents of the vial . . . it's just water."

Shocked, he rocked back on his heels. "Water? Are you certain?"

"Yes. Pure water. The other components have diffused into the air, or became carbon compounds that are relatively harmless- which are the black flecks you see. All in all, this mixture does nothing more than give you water gain and make you eat more salt."

Arram looked between the two of them. "You mean . . . the cure is all of these different samples, mixed together?"

Lillian nodded. "Yes."

This excited an uproar amongst his researchers; they dissolved into cries of disbelief, shock, and excitement. The curly brunette that was Arram's partner ran up and hugged him; he swung her around with an unrestrained smile.

McCoy allowed them to celebrate for a moment longer, for he was caught up in Lillian's look of wonder and awe. They were staring at each other, silly grins plastered over their faces. Her green eyes were as bright as any sun, and they shone with hope that had been lacking for so long. Slowly, he stood, and moved toward her.

"Congratulations, doctor," She laughed. "It seems we have a clumsy intern to thank for this particular study."

"Rather ironic," He agreed, but he wasn't paying attention to what she was saying. He had somehow taken her hands in his; the vial had appeared in his lab coat's pocket. A part of him wondered why this occasion warranted so much celebration; surely, there were bigger and better things that heralded an impromptu party, but her hands felt so right in his, and McCoy found he just didn't give a damn. Let them celebrate; he had more important things on his mind.

Gregory said something, and it took a moment for McCoy to realize that he had even spoken. Breaking eye contact with Lily for the first time in minutes, he turned and asked him to repeat it.

A small smile played on the man's face, but his words were serious. "We need to figure out how much of each sample is in that compound, sir. It won't do to make assumptions."

He knew that, of course. Experimenting with unknown chemical equations just wasn't what he wanted to do at the moment. "Well, then, get on it," He said happily. "Make sure you write down what they were before hand, though, and check every new sample we get to make certain they are the same."

"Yes sir."

Lillian tugged her hands out of his grasp. Her tone light and playful, she said, "You'd better get working on it too, Bones. We've made too much progress to back out now."

McCoy sighed. "Alright. Get me some of those vials; hopefully, luck is still on our side and we'll figure this out today."

Unfortunately, it was not so; in the hours before shift was fully over, the solution eluded them. McCoy, Lillian, Arram, Gregory, and everyone else who was able worked relentlessly with the supplies they had left, and all turned in their findings with dejected appearances. "We'll get to the bottom of this," McCoy said when shift was over. "Don't ya'll worry; with hard work, we can figure this out by the end of the week."

No one seemed to notice the slight slip into his southern accent; they shuffled out, talking quietly, disappointed by their failure but still excited about their discovery.

McCoy felt no need to remind them of keeping everything quiet; he trusted them enough to know that they would follow the principle of, "What happens in the lab, stays in the lab". He also nurtured hopes that would extend to the way he and Lillian had been acting toward the end, but somehow doubted it.

He joined her at dinner, obtaining his chicken-fried steak as he had promised himself, with a side of beans and mashed potatoes. Lily had obtained a hamburger, fries, and a cup of coffee. As they had both worked through lunch, their dinner was consumed quickly. It wasn't until McCoy walked her to her room that she reminded him of his realization that morning.

Following her, McCoy closed the door behind him and sat down on her bed. Lily used the ensuing silence to feed Juniper, and then took a seat next to him. "Using humans as experiments… the idea is sickening."

"I know. But what else could it be? No one creates a compound that destroys the human body on a whim. This was planned out. The improvements made to the samples prove it."

Lillian nibbled her bottom lip. "What will they gain from it, though? Filling their inner sadist? Money? Power?"

"Who knows? Whatever the case, we need to locate Hunter and find out ourselves."

"No one knows who he is, though. He spends all his time in R and that's in the basements, where we are forbidden to go."

"Gordo will know," McCoy said, determined. "I've already sent him my opinion on the matter. Surely, this will be more than enough to actually spark him into action."

Hesitantly, Lily asked, "Do you think Gordo is to be trusted? Hunter holds all the power; one message to Starfleet . . ."

"I have to trust him, Lily. What else is there? I haven't been here long enough to gain respect or allies, and Waters certainly won't help me. Gordo may be idiotic, but he's the only chance we got."

Lily didn't reply. The look in her eyes told him more than enough: she didn't think that Gordo alone would be helpful. McCoy changed the subject. "Any way, we've got our own wild card. Hunter has no reason to suspect that we have found the cure to his little concoction. Should he ever attempt to hurt someone with it, we'll have the remedy here."

"It'll only work if we know who he injects," Lily said.

She was right, of course. But he was trying this whole optimistic mindset right now, and wasn't going to let her break it. "We'll figure something out," He assured her.

They talked well into the night, forming ideas and possible explanations as to why Hunter was even creating this in the first place. The compounds dominated their conversation; hypothesis on the amounts of each liquid combined to neutralize the three, what it could possibly be used for, and the identity of the man who created it. Only when Lily could no longer hide her yawns did McCoy apologetically take his leave.

Still, as he stood outside the door, he gave her a mischievous smile. "What, no goodnight kiss? And I thought we were really hitting it off," He joked as she prepared to close the door.

Lily laughed. "I highly doubt talking about death-in-a-vial is considered flirting, but if you insist," she quickly stood on her tip-toes and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Goodnight, Bones," she smiled, and waited for his reply before closing the door.

Her necklace had turned mostly silver.

McCoy grinned all the way to his room, and even the depressing quarters didn't quite lower his spirits. Already he was trying to figure out a way to persuade her to give him a proper kiss. Tomorrow, he vowed, things would get serious. No more polite superior-subordinate relationship. If he wanted to satisfy the sexual frustration raging within him, he needed to get a move on.

Lillian followed him to his dreams that night. They were dancing together on a ballroom floor, she in a long white dress, and he in a tux. In the back of his mind he remembered it as his and Trisha's first dance as a married couple, but his ex-wife was not the woman smiling up at him. His heart pounded; and as the dance changed to him watching her walk on a beach, he longed for the feel of her body pressed up against his.

/

"McCoy is a problem. He's already figured out too much in his time here."

Gordo held out his hands in exasperation. "What will you have me do? Starfleet is monitoring him closely; if he disappears, worse will come."

"Do not play me as a fool, Gordo; there is more than one way to hurt a man without leaving a mark on him." His companion's voice was calm, controlled; not one trace of his inner feeling and motives were shown on his face.

Gordo's eyes narrowed slightly. "Are you proposing . . .?"

"Nothing of the sort. Whoever attempted the cyanide botched the effort, and I will find the man who did so and make him wish he had never been born. Physical pain will do nothing to Doctor McCoy. I intend to cause him mental harm."

"Do not ruin him. He could be of service to us yet."

"You are in no position to threaten me. If you recall, you have much, much more to lose than I."

As the man left his office, Gordo leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, mentally cursing the day he had ever met Tristan Hunter.

* * *

Oh, McCoy, you horny fiend, you ;)

Yes, sexual tensions and danger are intensifying. Expect much, much action in the following chapters.

Review, lovely readers! It gives me inspiration to keep writing throughout this crazy ride called life!


	11. Chapter 11

Here's Chapter 11- AKA, the matchmaking chapter, or, the beginning of the end.

Enjoy!

* * *

"Lillian," McCoy asked the next day, "You're twenty-two, right?"

Though somewhat surprised at the question, she nodded. "I'll be twenty-three next month."

"Well, happy early birthday. Know any good gift shops around here?"

She laughed. "I wish. I haven't been on a good shopping trip in ages."

"Funny, I haven't either," he said teasingly. "There's nothing like the feeling of sore feet and arms after carrying thirty bags and boxes around all day."

Lillian shook her head, smiling. "Men will never be able to understand the joys of shopping. And besides; they are so much stronger than us females. Carrying our baggage is natural." She poked his arm with her stylus. "I'm pretty sure you have enough strength to be my personal shopping slave for a day."

Wincing, McCoy batted the stylus away. "I wouldn't say that."

"What? You aren't very manly, then?"

"I wouldn't say that either. The heaviest thing I've ever carried was boxes of medical supplies. Usually a padd, tricorder, and med kit are all I have on me." He said. "Sorry to disappoint, but I'm not exactly a swimsuit model from one of those trashy holos."

Now it was her turn to wince. "I never expected you to be. And I've never seen one of those 'trashy holos', so I wouldn't know the difference anyway."

"That's a good thing."

Lily leaned against the table, her head tilted. "You've been unusually happy this morning. I like it."

He smiled, setting down his tray of samples. "I have a lot to be happy about. A cure to these abominations is in the works, I just proved another researcher wrong about Vulcan and Romulan comparative anatomy, and you're smiling. So of course I'm in a good mood."

"Vulcan and Romulan comparative anatomy? Aren't they essentially very similar?"

"Hey, I fell behind on my work, alright? And this particular researcher formed the theory that Romulans and Vulcans weren't related at all, despite the split being in both Vulcan and Romulan history. It seems he had the notion that they evolved separately; Romulans on a neighboring planet, Vulcans on, well, Vulcan."

"And your evidence to the contrary was . . .?"

"I drew from both cultures history. And since there isn't a desert planet anywhere near Vulcan, nor could the two civilizations contact each other at the time of the separation since space travel was rather primitive, I showed that his ideas were rather far-fetched. Plus, there is the fact that virtually all organs, cells, and systems are exactly alike, and they even share the same copper-based blood."

She sighed. "People these days."

"Eh, well, it'll be good for him. Shoot his ego down a few notches." He handed her a padd. "However, I did also stumble on this little beauty . . ."

Lily looked down, and then blushed crimson. "My first year thesis paper! Oh, god, that thing was awful! How did you get your hands on it?"

"Seems your professor published it for you. And it's not as bad as you think. Though some points are a little sketchy, it is a rather good paper. Though I must say; why did you pick the Melvarian Mud Flea, out of all the creatures in the galaxy?"

"I was grabbing at straws," She said, still blushing. "And I thought they were rather interesting." She shoved the padd back at him. "Get that out of my sight, please! I had happily forgotten about it."

Teasingly, he pushed it back; thus ensued a light-hearted scuffle, both parties laughing, as McCoy tauntingly read out passages and Lillian trying to claim the padd so she could delete the file. It eventually got to the point where he was pressed up against the desk, one arm reaching up with the padd firmly in hand, and Lillian pressed up against him in a useless effort to climb up and reach it. Neither seemed to know the predicament they were in until Lillian lost her footing and slid sideways.

Automatically, McCoy reached out, and wrapped his arms around her as he hauled her back up. Letting out a breathless 'thank you', Lily stared up at him, eyes wide with surprise.

He looked down, equally shocked at how close they were, but reveling in it all the same. Neither moved; tucked away as they were, no one noticed, and all they could hear was the pounding of their own hearts.

Lillian's necklace had turned light pink, streaked through with silver; but even if he was paying attention, McCoy would have noticed it changing color constantly. Purples, blues, greens, reds, yellows . . . it was a kaleidoscope of color. Lost as he was in Lillian's gaze, he hardly noticed nor cared.

She swallowed, and pulled slightly back. Without even realizing it, he pulled her closer. "No," he whispered, suddenly scared of letting her go.

"Bones," she said quietly. He waited for her to continue, and she finally found the words she was looking for. "Leonard, I just . . . are you sure?"

"About you?" Her eyes dropped, and he continued. "I haven't felt this way toward anyone in a long time, Lily. I haven't allowed myself to. Yet despite all my wishes to resist, I can't." Now it was his turn to swallow. "I don't want to name this feeling. Not yet. But can you at least let me have a chance?"

When she looked up again, he noticed that her eyes were a little glassy. "I always told myself that I wouldn't let professional relationships evolve into more," she whispered. "Yet it seems I let this one get away from me. I don't want to name the feeling yet, either. But I do want to at some point. If you'll have me, then the chance is yours."

Heart soaring, McCoy did the only thing that was natural at a time like this. He kissed her.

It was nothing spectacular. Just a chaste kiss, lingering, sweet and innocent; yet to McCoy, it was perfect. He wasn't the type of person to twirl a girl around or dip her low in some anti-climatic manner; nor was he the kind to initiate a full-on make out session at first chance. He couldn't afford to be. Lily was much more important than any of the other girls he had casually dated, and McCoy knew he couldn't afford to make a mistake. Not now, when she fully trusted him.

Her hands were fisted into his lab coat, and with their foreheads touching she said, "Remind me to thank your Captain for stranding you here in the first place."

"Will do," He chuckled. "You can thank him yourself as well."

He felt her smile. "I think I'll do that."

They spent the next few minutes whispering to each other, McCoy still keeping her in his embrace. Though not talking about anything important, they didn't mind. It felt good to simply exist for a while.

Only the sound of loud, excited voices drew them away from their sheltered area. Finally letting Lily slip out of his grasp, McCoy went to investigate, the blonde intern following after.

Gregory was at his console, with his neighbors crowded around. They were the source of the excitement; noticing that McCoy had arrived, one said, "He's close, sir; there's fifty percent water after the reaction."

"Thank you, Hargrove. Any progress at your station?"

"No, sir. The best I've gotten is fifteen percent."

"Then let's get back to work, shall we? Fifty percent still isn't one hundred."

They left, and Gregory stepped aside to let McCoy examine the results. "This is a large amount of Compound A, sir. If I remember correctly, three vials of it had broken, more than the other two."

McCoy nodded absently. "You're correct. Try adding more B in there, and not so much A. Keep C the same."

Gregory nodded, and as McCoy wandered around the lab to check on everyone's progress, Lillian returned to her own lab station to start her own work. She didn't notice that she was being watched by Hargrove's lab partner.

At fifty-six, Chad Shifflet was no longer as attractive as he once was, or could have been. That did not mean he did not notice women. Slightly balding, with mysterious green-brown eyes and a round face, he was neither skinny nor fat, but had plain features. It was his mystery and enigmatic personality that had captured the few females he had been with, but had been unable to hold them for long. They had left him for far more captivating, handsome males, making Shifflet grow more and more angry at those who were naturally charismatic and good-looking. He had accepted the position at Theta Six to escape these types of people, and had been working in Agriculture for six months when Lillian and Janna had arrived.

He didn't really notice the two, at first. They were just two new faces in a different department. Neither was very pretty at first, but as time wore on, he became . . . interested.

Lillian had an internal light that made her features striking, while Janna was a natural beauty. Both were blonde, petite, and slender, but Janna had a good four inches on her friend and wide, captivating blue eyes that drew him in. She worked in Bioinformatics, same as Lillian, but hearing her talk it was plain she could easily have been accepted among the elite in many prestigious areas of research. She had been offered a position as Science Officer on a starship, but in support of her friend, had surrendered it to an Andorian of equal mental capacity but who had little interaction with humans, having been trained on Andoria. Her mental abilities, beauty, and personality drew Shifflet ever closer; only, she barely noticed him.

Lillian, however, did. Not in the way he noticed her friend, of course, but she was like that- Open, compassionate, and amiable. They weren't friends, per say, but he certainly did not have to provide much effort to fall into conversation. Sometimes, it made him feel guilty that the only reason he talked to Lillian was to get closer to Janna. If she ever knew, she didn't let on; it was a guilty secret, one he would have been able to keep happily had Janna not one day disappeared.

Lillian's expression, actions, and mood proved that Janna had been Chosen. Heartbroken once more, Shifflet had withdrawn, mourning his loss. Though Janna had still been unaware of his feelings, he blamed himself for not coming out and saying it. His suffering, he boldly told himself, was equal to Lillian's, or perhaps greater. Whereas she only lost a best friend, he lost a love. He had even transferred to Bioinformatics to be closer to Janna, despite his limited knowledge on the subject. His self pity made him blind to all that Janna had sacrificed to help Lillian, and how devoted to her friend she was. Shifflet got over his loss quickly; Lillian took longer. Only the arrival of McCoy seemed to break her out of her depression. It wasn't until then, of course, that heShifflet realized he had also been attracted to Lillian.

Had he inspected his feelings closer, he would have easily realized it was only because she was connected to Janna, and because both women had rebuffed him without even trying. Shifflet's wounded pride at being unable to court Janna had fancied itself into thinking it also loved Lillian, and McCoy's intrusion into his supposed love life was not a welcome one. He had not known, however, how strong their connection was until he had seen McCoy leaving her room late last night. Jumping to conclusions, he automatically assumed the serious and felt the rage beginning to boil within him again.

So he did what seemed to be logical to him.

He reported the discovery of the cure to Waters.

Intent on getting Lillian for himself and himself only, he did not stop to consider the consequences, nor the danger, of his action. His infatuation with Lillian and Janna both had driven him to obsession, and coupled with determination it made a formidable foe. Now, as he stared after the intern (who didn't seem to notice the longing gazes she kept directing toward McCoy as she walked back to her station), Shifflet could only think of one thing:

Get rid of McCoy in any way possible.

Even if it meant hurting the one he supposedly loved.

Shifflet had no way of knowing that reporting to Waters would destroy his life. He had no way of knowing that Waters reported to Hunter. He had no way of knowing that because of his envy, Lillian's - and McCoy's- life would soon be on the brink of death. He had no way of knowing, because he had been unwittingly used, just like everyone else in the station. His dreams of wooing Lillian and finally having the intern as his would be crushed forever, and he would learn the lesson of looking before leaping the hard way.

Shifflet was the final puzzle piece that would set things in motion. And as that piece finally fell into place, plans were made to bring about changes that would forever change the fate of the galaxy.

/

Through their bond, Uhura could feel Spock reeling in shock, his mind churning with the implications. Images of the mutated test subjects flashed through their minds; as one, they realized the severity of the issue. If this Hunter succeeded, they could all be at the mercy of a biological weapon of massive proportions.

As the two conversed frantically telepathically, Kirk stared off into the distance. The stakes had risen exponentially high; he had to do something, and do something now. That much was clear. Any more hesitation on his part could make it too late to do anything. Though right now, he allowed himself to worry; until Alandria analyzed the files and gave him specifics, he couldn't make plans.

Spock spoke first. "Captain, you do realize the severity of this discovery?"

"Of course I do. I have Doctor Stephenson analyzing and gathering all information pertaining to it already."

"We must stop this."

"I know. I'm thinking."

"How are we going to do that?" Uhura asked. "Last time you tried to infiltrate the tunnels, it didn't go as planned. Obviously, something went wrong."

Kirk shook his head. "We weren't prepared. We didn't know what to expect, and let our ignorance rule the mission. Now that we know what to look for and what to expect, it will be easier. Unfortunately, the security there knows our faces; we have to go incognito."

Spock pulled an image up on the computer. "Captain, I believe this will help. When I downloaded their database, I also obtained a map of the facilities, plus a full blueprint, including security cameras, guard postings, alarms, and the like. By studying this, I have formed a satisfactory route to the heart of the complex, and the optimal points to install pulse devices to short circuit the security equipment. Once these devices are activated, the shields they have around their tunnels will be deactivated, and the _Enterprise_ will be able to beam us up, as well as anyone in the tunnels for questioning."

"Excellent, Spock. How long will the security equipment be deactivated?"

"Barring back-up generators, I estimate at least five minutes. That will give me plenty of time to hack into the main computers and obtain the information I need. With the entire complex at my disposal on the computers, I can fully deactivate the security and allow us to get to the root of the problem and find out who Hunter is."

Kirk studied the map. "The main computers are on the third level. It's heavily guarded; we'll need a team of at least six to apply all the pulse devices, which is risky in itself. Not only that, but security is sure to be increased since we last paid a visit. Are you sure this map is accurate?"

"I am certain," Spock said.

"Alright. Uhura, I need you to help us out. You will be in charge of things up here; your bond-thing with Spock will keep you informed of what's going on down there, so you will know the exact timing of things. You remember how to use a transporter, correct?"

Uhura hesitated slightly, and then nodded. "Yes. I remember the basics. I can have one of the engineers standing by, however."

"Do that, if it makes you feel comfortable. Spock, I need you to keep in constant contact with her, so she knows exactly when to pull us out if things get tough, or when a distraction needs to take place." Kirk paused, and then pointed at a point on the map. "Wait, what's this?"

Spock zoomed in on the area Kirk was pointing to. "It is an air duct. Too small for a human to crawl through; it is barely ten inches wide in each direction."

Their Captain smiled. "This could work to our advantage."

"How?" Uhura asked.

"It may be too small for humans," Kirk said, "but other items can fit in. Air ducts are important in keeping fresh air flowing into the complex; similar to vents in a mine. Though there is probably some sort of artificial atmosphere operating down there, these air ducts are used for backup should the fake atmosphere fail. If we drop something down there- say, some sort of gas- we could knock out a lot of our opposition before we begin."

Spock nodded. "That could work. We should discuss this with the doctor; no doubt she has something that would be useful. A sleeping gas, perhaps; or a visual impairment."

"We don't want to be affected as well; it needs to fast-acting, but also quick to dissolve and neutralize. Gas masks impair vision too much." Kirk nodded at Spock. "Locate all the air ducts and feed them into the _Enerprise_'s data banks. I have no doubt Chekov will be able to target them later and launch our little presents into them."

Uhura thought for a moment, and then said, "We need to protect the people they are testing on, too. How do we know they won't suffer the aftermath?"

Kirk was tracing various passageways, and replied absently, "They'll be safe in the immediate aftermath. We need to neutralize the people who work there first. Starfleet'll be able to take care of the patients afterwards." He began muttering to himself, already making plans on the invasion and running through possible scenarios. Realizing that the meeting was over, Uhura and Spock rose and left, returning to their quarters for a private discussion. They didn't worry about their stations; Uhura was off-duty anyway and Spock could access his from their room.

"Do you think Kirk's idea will work?" Uhura asked as soon as the door closed.

Spock guided her over to the couch, where they curled up together. "It has a high probability of success," He replied. "Should everything go as planned, there is an eighty-six percent chance of succeeding."

"What about the other fourteen percent?"

"That is where things go wrong and we end like the pictures," Spock said bluntly. Seeing the wince his bond-mate made, Spock softened. "Do not worry, Nyota. I do not plan to fail. Much more is at stake than Mr. Scott's disappearance and Theron's economy. I will not allow us to return empty-handed or in defeat."

Uhura looked at him. "I don't care if you return in defeat, Spock. I just want you to return." She sighed, and then changed the subject. "These air ducts; do you think they lead to circulating air, so the gas bombs we drop in will affect everyone at the same time?"

Spock considered this for a minute. "It is highly probable. In any case, I planned on containing them in capsules that, when released, would release the gasses inside them. That way, we can control the timing from the _Enterprise_ and not have to worry about different sections regaining normality at different times."

"What drug do you think would work?"

"Chloroform," Spock replied, "Or something similar. Doctor Stephenson will supply us with those materials, and if she can analyze her findings, something to counteract the mutations as well."

Uhura shivered slightly. "How could someone do such a thing? Experiment on human lives like that?" Shaking her head, she continued. "We have to stop them. I don't care how. Those people don't deserve to suffer."

He hugged her to him, tighter, her head resting in the crook of his neck. "Do not fret, Nyota. This time tomorrow, Captain Kirk will have a plan. I guarantee it."

/

Spock was right, in a way. Kirk already had plans made and was thinking of every little detail that would help. The only problem? When the _Enterprise's_ cameras zoomed in on the air ducts, they were barred. Majorly so. The Science Officer on duty reported that there was about five centimeters between each bar, according to the scanners. Frustrated, Kirk paced the Bridge for a moment, mind churning. It would now be impossible to drop large containers down into the ducts, and unless Spock could create many hundreds of small, marble-like containers by tomorrow, nothing would work. For the moment, it seemed that they would have to go in guns blazing- except be spraying sleeping gas, not phaser fire.

Speaking of which, he still had to check if Alandria even had enough sleeping gas or some such to spare.

Entering the turbolift, he requested Medical Bay and the lift complied, carrying him down into the heart of the ship. Dead center, the Medical Bay was its own deck, with biology labs, artificial greenhouses, chemistry labs, dissecting rooms, examination rooms, ICU's, radiological labs, and more sprawling a grand total of five hallways, not including the connecting passages. Though Main Medical Bay had its own turbolift to bring patients directly to the doctors, a door at opposite ends of the room led out to the hallways. McCoy, when he had been on board, had made Main Medical Bay his domain; the other three, secondary Medical Bays, had belonged to Alandria and Doctor M'Benga.

Walking into the Main Med Bay, Kirk searched for Alandria. Nurse Chapel was currently having an avid discussion with a man from a science lab; they were heading out the door, and were soon replaced by a man carrying a large, leafy green plant that was dripping some sort of waxy, yellow-green juice. Avoiding him, Kirk approached McCoy's office, not surprised to see Alandria inside, staring intently at the computer screen.

"Find anything useful?" He asked.

Her eyes didn't budge. "Useful, yes. Optimistic? No. The data here is grim, Captain. The medicine is nearing completion. I estimate a total of four months, maximum, until this thing goes viral."

"Not optimistic, indeed." He muttered. "Listen, do you think you could help us?"

As he explained the plan, Alandria ignored the computer terminal and listened carefully. When he was done, she nodded. "I have something that will be perfect for that. Fast-acting, and takes nearly an hour to wear off. However, there are some unpleasant side-effects; vomiting, nausea, and in some cases memory loss. I suggest that you wear basic gas masks when first coming in contact, though. It doesn't fully disperse and neutralize until twenty minutes or so."

"Perfect," Kirk said. "All we need is a way to drop them down the vents, and trigger the release from the _Enterprise_."

Alandria stood. "Come with me," She said.

Curious, Kirk followed after her (discreetly admiring her backside as he did so) down a hallway and into a storage room. Alandria rooted around a few boxes, and then pulled out a padd. "This was an experiment done a few years back, in an attempt to create triggered medications within a patient. Though it failed, I believe Mr. Spock can modify it for your needs."

Kirk took the thin plastic object, looking over it. "Why would someone want to trigger medications?"

"It was designed for those who frequently forgot to take medications. Instead of trying to rely on memory, alarms, and friends, they would only swallow a few of these and the timers would dissolve the container when it was time to take the medication. There were complications, however; when the body's cells weren't attacking it for being foreign material, the nano-circuitry on the capsules tended to play havoc with the nervous system. A few of the first volunteers had cases of seizures; more had a severe reduction in reflexes. The project was scrapped shortly after."

Bemused, Kirk wondered why a file of this was even on the ship. Then again, McCoy had a habit of collecting bizarre thing, especially if they were related to medical breakthroughs or developments. Kirk wouldn't be surprised if he hadn't been involved in the development of this particular experiment somehow.

Still, it at least gave them a starting point. "Thank you, Alandria," He said. "I'll bring this to Spock right away; he'll know what to do."

"No problem," She smiled. "Glad I could help. Should I have the compound ready by tomorrow?"

"I'll get back to you on that. If you don't hear otherwise by nineteen-hundred hours, go ahead and get it ready; I'll be sure to contact you beforehand with other details if not." He said.

Alandria nodded, and they walked back to med bay. Not wanting their field trip to end so soon, Kirk asked, "How do you like being CMO so far?"

She considered for a moment. "It's been enlightening, but difficult. I never knew that there was so much paperwork, and the confidentiality of all the members on board is a little stressful at times. I know the medical records of all the crew- even you, Captain. Knowing all this and still having to stay silent even when you want to discuss it with someone is hard. Yet, it's been rewarding. I'm no longer restricted to my one area, and I can do so much more now. I can choose my own hours, go where I please, and do what I want. Though more responsibility has been placed on me, I don't mind as much. The nurses have gained a lot of knowledge of their duties while Doctor McCoy was here, so they largely stay out of my way. The other labs don't, however. Even a plant with the slightest bit of medicinal uses gets put into my department. We've rediscovered penicillin ten times on Theron alone. I suppose it's the paperwork that I hate the most; I never liked desk work, and now I have much more of it than I'm used to. No wonder McCoy spent most of his time on the Bridge with you. I would go crazy spending so much time reading over menial reports, signing inventories, and all the other mundane tasks that go along with it."

"You're fitting in just fine, then," Kirk replied with a smile.

Alandria smiled at that, nodding. "Yeah. It's going to take some getting used to, but I know I can handle it."

They had arrived at her office, and as Kirk let her in first, a question struck his mind. "Alandria," He asked hesitantly, "When Bones comes back, will you leave?" Seeing her look, he sighed. "Not many people like being demoted. Since you are CMO on the _Enterprise_, any other starship will jump at the chance to claim you as their CMO once Bones returns. Here, you will simply be bumped back into the position you were once in. Will you be satisfied with that, or will you take the chance to be CMO on another starship?"

He knew that his question had taken her by surprise. For a long moment, Alandria didn't respond; with eyes averted, she finally spoke. "My place is here. I understood full well that this position was only temporary; I am, after all, only a lieutenant. Despite all the power I have as CMO, I don't want it. Not yet. McCoy belongs in this place. I belong in mine. So, no, I won't leave. I can never be CMO permanently anyway. McCoy only got me onboard by pulling many strings. I'm lucky to have been here so long as it is."

"What do you mean?"

Alandria shook her head. "Look, Jim, I know you mean well, but please don't pry. Some things are still too painful for me to discuss. Just know that I have no intention of leaving, and I will give my best wherever I am. Your crew – and yourself- is safe with me."

Kirk nodded slowly. "Alright. Tell me in your own time. I won't pry, Alandria. Just know I've had my fair share of experience with going to hell and back, so I doubt your story is any worse than mine. I'm here if you need me.

"Thanks again for the file. I'll bring it to Spock right away."

She smiled gratefully as he left, but he was more concerned by what she meant when she said that she was lucky to be on board in the first place. Alandria was an amazing doctor. Not just because she was beautiful, but because she truly knew what she was doing and cared for her patients equally. She threw her whole heart and soul into her profession, and from the few stories he had gleaned from his crew, she put the lives of her patients first. He recognized a kindred spirit within her- someone who would stop at nothing to win, who loved her job as much as he loved his. She had no qualms about putting her job first.

McCoy would know what her big secret was, he decided. As coworkers, he and Alandria spent a lot of time together, and no doubt had classes together at the Academy. A few casual comments when Bones was tipsy from alcohol should do the trick. He didn't like going behind Alandria's back, but he didn't have to tell her that he knew. She could still tell him in her own time. He was just wondering what sort of darkness the intelligent, lively young doctor was carrying.

After dropping the file off to Spock, who seemed immensely interested in the contents, Kirk retreated to his quarters. Activating the computer, he requested the log book, and after a moment the computer assured him it was ready for recording. Leaning back in the chair, Kirk began dictating his entry.

"Captain's log, supplemental. The invasion of Theron's tunnels has been scheduled for tomorrow, and it seems that everything is falling in place. Even though the air ducts posed a problem, Doctor Stephenson proved invaluable in finding a solution to our problem. The last puzzle piece has been found; now all we need to do is put it in place. I know that, whatever happens, tomorrow will be the beginning of a new dawn, for both Theron and the Federation . . ."

* * *

I love cliffies.

From here on out, it'll be action-packed. McCoy and Kirk are going on a rampage, so it's gonna be much fun! Stay tuned, and please review. I'd like to know what everyone thinks!


	12. Chapter 12

Heeeeeeere's Chapter 12! :D

* * *

Spock gestured at the multiple silver canisters clustered together inside the airlock. "Upon my signal, these will be ejected out of the ship, where their built-in navigation systems will then guide them to their programmed locations. It will take approximately five point four five minutes to enter the atmosphere, upon which their outer shell will disintegrate and the smaller vehicle containing the remote-controlled gas bombs will continue. It will take another four point three nine minutes to navigate to the air ducts and position themselves. When each of the containers land, a signal will be sent up to the _Enterprise_. When I give the command, Tactical Officer Chekov will release the small capsules containing the gas. From then, there timers will be triggered, and we will have exactly five minutes before the gas is released."

Kirk nodded. "Thank you, Spock. It's good to know that our cover is ready. What about the pulse devices?"

Uhura held out several small boxes. "Here, Captain."

At Kirk's gesture, the security team assembled took one of them, opening them up and making sure all of the devices were in there. Uhura looked nervous as she handed the last one to Spock; his hand squeezed hers for a brief instant before he placed the container in his pouch. "Transporter room is ready, sir."

"Alright, gentleman. Let's go."

The security team filed out, with Kirk and Spock behind them. Kirk was about to enter the turbolift when he heard his name being called, and with a surprise he saw Alandria running over to him. Telling Spock and the others to go on, he waited for her to catch up.

She was breathing heavily, but otherwise looked fine. "Be careful down there," She said. "I'll have a medical team on standby should things go wrong, but I'd rather have all of you back safe and sound."

"Don't worry, Alandria. We'll be fine." He turned to get the turbolift, but she caught his arm. There was surprisingly intense look in her blue eyes.

"I promised McCoy that I'd keep you safe," She said, voice quiet, but her eyes blazed with an emotion he couldn't quite place. "But I don't want anyone else to die while I am in charge of the health of this crew. Don't do anything stupid."

He recognized the look in her eyes-Fear, and pain. He remembered that she had lost three of her patients during the shuttle accident, and it was clear that she hadn't forgiven herself yet. If anyone else died, and she couldn't protect them . . .

Kirk gently took her hands in his own, trying to convey his sincerity with his words. "I swear that I will do everything in my power to keep everyone alive, Alandria. You have done all you can; now it's my turn. I won't let you down."

She hesitated, but nodded. "I believe you." She squeezed his hands slightly, and then withdrew. "I'll see you when you return, Jim."

"And I you."

He watched her leave, remembering that he should have been rejoicing that she had called him by name and that they had held hands. But he knew that the feeling of rejoice he did have was imagined. Alandria wasn't some girl he had picked up at a bar. She was different. She was not yet a friend, but very close to an equal, like McCoy or Spock. She depended upon him, but more importantly, she treated him like a human being. She saw past the hero and saw the real James Tiberius Kirk. He respected her much more because of that; she wasn't fooled by outward appearances and accomplishments.

Kirk caught the next turbolift up, and swiftly headed to the transporter room, hoping that Alandria wouldn't lose faith in him in today's aftermath.

They had already worked out the order. Kirk and Spock would beam down first, while the security team would wait their turn on the transporter. Kirk and Spock would go down for a visit to the President, but while in his manor would sneak away to the basement level, where there was another entrance to the labs. The security team would beam down then, and they would all don their masks and head down. Timing was everything. They needed to enter as soon as possible so that they had the maximum amount of time to get the pulse devices in place and allow Spock to hack into the main computers. With luck, quick-thinking, and speed, they would be in and out before anyone realized what happened.

"Energize," Kirk said, as soon as he and Spock were on the pad. The Lieutenant on duty nodded, and soon Kirk and Spock found themselves in front of the President's manor. Walking up swiftly, they announced their arrival. The guildmember who received them went off to find his master, but Kirk and Spock didn't hang around; they left as soon as the Theron was around the corner.

The capsules containing the gas had already been launched; Spock had already started counting down in his head, timing it as best he could while trying to get to the basement ahead of time. Kirk led, letting Spock divert most of his attention to the time.

They reached the basement with little hassle, only having to duck inside a room last minute when a maid appeared around the corner. Opening his communicator, Kirk said, "We're ready down here."

"Understood, Captain."

Seconds later, the security detail appeared around them, and Spock pulled out his tricorder and a small, black box. "The capsules are in place," he said. "The gas bombs are dropping . . . now."

"Now, gentlemen," Kirk said, "We wait."

And wait they did. The five minutes strung on for far too long, and Kirk was jittery with nerves when Spock finally gave the signal to put on the masks. Accepting his from a security guard, Kirk put it on and pulled open the doors.

Holding the silver box in one hand and his phaser in another, Kirk led his team down the winding staircase and into the hallways. At first, he couldn't even tell if the gas had been successful; then he became aware of a slight mist, and by the time he reached the bottom the air had turned slightly opaque.

At the first intersection they came to, they split up. Kirk and Spock continued straight, while three security members went right and the other three left. They had tricorders with them; hopefully, they wouldn't get lost and fail to meet at the rendezvous point and be captured- or fail to get all their pulse devices installed. Kirk tried not to think about either scenario.

"The first device should be installed here," Spock said, and swiftly opened his case to pull out a small, hexagonal-shaped piece of metal. Once fastened to the wall, it wouldn't come off unless the one who installed it removed it.

A small red light blinked on, showing that the device was fully charged and ready to activate at the press of a button. Kirk and Spock moved on.

They didn't encounter researchers until they were heading to the third area, when three men in lab coats were sprawled awkwardly across the passage. One was in a puddle of spilt chemicals; the others were on top of one another, as if they had collided before falling asleep. Stepping over them carefully, Kirk winced at the smell of burning hair as whatever chemical the man was lying in began to sizzle.

There were six pulse devices per box; Kirk and Spock had twelve total, and had to rush to get them installed in time. Through his bond with Uhura, Spock was able to keep a tally on the other crewmembers. She informed him whenever one was activated, and how much time was left. So far, they were right on schedule.

From up ahead, Spock heard Kirk swear. Leaving the glowing pulse device, he approached his Captain. "What's wrong?"

"The door's locked. Needs some sort of access key." He nudged a fallen researcher with his foot. "I've already tried all their ID cards, but none worked."

Spock eyed the door. "It's a basic security ward. It will be easy to bypass."

"And how, exactly, will we . . .?"

Kirk's mouth dropped open as Spock smashed the card reader. The door slid open silently after a few wires were rearranged. Spock raised an eyebrow. "You were saying?"

Amazed, Kirk shook his head. "Nothing. Lead on, Mr. Spock. We have more pulse devices to install."

/

The last device was installed right outside the main computer room. Two groups were already there waiting on them; Kirk nodded with relief seeing that four of his men had safely arrived. The last two weren't long in coming; they ran up, a little breathless, but otherwise unharmed.

Spock flipped the lid to the little black box. "I advise you to stay behind me. There may be a mild shock wave as the devices activate."

When they were situated behind him, Spock checked in briefly with Uhura; she informed him that everything was activated and ready. _The gas is neutralized, Spock. You only have forty minutes ._She said over the bond. He sent a wave of reassurance. _That is more than enough, Nyota. Do not worry._

He pressed the button, and the light on the device flickered and turned green. The entire complex was plunged into blackness; then the emergency lights flickered on, washing everything in a sickly yellow glow. Uhura informed him that the scanners were able to fully work. Though transporter capabilities only extended to the first level, Spock was satisfied. Now, all that lay ahead was hacking into the mainframe and turning off the necessary security devices.

Spock moved into the room, Kirk and the six security guards following. Inside, one wall was completely dominated by view screens, and the remaining walls were covered with schematics for the security devices, showing where each device was activated or deactivated. One small red dot caught Kirk's attention; he recognized it as the card scanner Spock had smashed.

Two men who had training in engineering went to examine the schematics, murmuring to each other. A researcher was slumped over the desk in front of the view screens, and Spock removed him from the seat as he connected his PADD to the terminal. "This will be a while, Captain. It seems there are more firewalls to break through than I anticipated," he said.

Kirk tried to not let his agitation show. "Do it as fast as you can, Spock. Some researchers were stirring as we came here. For some reason, this area wasn't hit as hard."

"Understood." The First Officer rapidly began inputting complicated formulas.

Kirk and the four remaining officers went to guard the outside. His suspicions were correct; the nearest researcher was moving, muttering in their sleep. If he remembered correctly, this meant that they were close to waking; five minutes, at the most. He hoped Spock would finish before they were forced to use the phasers.

His communicator chirped, and Kirk opened it. "Kirk here," he said.

_"Jim."_ It was Alandria's voice. _"There's a problem."_

"What is it?"

_"The gas . . . the scanners show that it has already lost effect in the lowest levels. The researchers have already begun to awake. You have about three minutes until those on your level begin to awake as well. You need to hurry."_

The security guards looked at him, ranging from nervous to outright terrified. Kirk himself began to feel jumpy. "What do you mean? What went wrong?"

_"I don't know… for some reason, it's more humid in the lower levels. The gas wasn't effective."_

Kirk swore softly. "Thank you, Alandria. We'll have to hurry. Don't worry; we'll be ok." He shut the communicator closed, then turned to his guards. "Rogers, Supanik, patrol the quarters. Set phasers to stun. Do not hesitate to shoot anyone who has even the slightest possibility to be awake. Hastings, Hernandez, stay here. Same orders."

They nodded. As Supanik and Rogers went in opposite directions, Hastings and Hernandez took guard on either side of the doorway, eyes moving restlessly.

Kirk went back inside. "Spock, we have a problem. The gas didn't work as well as we thought; the lower levels have already begun to recover. You need to hack this thing _now_."

Spock's voice was monotone. "I am working the best I can, Captain. If you wish to help, do not distract me. The defenses on this computer are difficult, indeed."

Though Kirk wanted to yell at him to work faster, he knew that it would only make things worse. Walking back outside, he told Hastings and Hernandez to stay on guard; he was going to patrol as well. Walking in the direction that Supanik took, he took out his phaser and jogged down the hallway.

There wasn't much to see. The rooms were laboratories, and though Bones would know what they were specifically for, they all looked the same to Kirk. Still, he felt sick to his stomach thinking about them. Was this where those horrible experiments had been concocted? Shuddering, he rounded the corner, coming face-to-face with Supanik.

"Captain!" She exclaimed, startled. Recovering, she added, "I'm sorry. I didn't expect you to…"

"It's alright. This place gives me the creeps to. All quiet down this hallway?"

She nodded. "Yes, sir. I was about to check the one ahead." An odd expression crossed her face, and before Kirk could ask what was wrong, she slowly crumpled to the ground.

A man stepped out of the doorway closest to them. Instantly, Kirk recognized him as the man who had been talking on a comlink the day they raided the records. The phaser already up and pointed at the man, Kirk demanded, "What have you done to my lieutenant?"

"Easy, Captain," the man said, his voice perfectly calm. "She is only asleep. No harm done."

"Forgive me if I don't believe you."

The man shrugged. "Think what you wish. I, however, must say that coming down here was a grievous mistake. Hunter, you see, does not appreciate people snooping through his private experiments. It is my job to take you to him."

Kirk snorted. "No way in hell I'm going with you."

His gaze hardened as the small phaser-like weapon was raised. "You are brave, Captain, but you stop right here. Men, detain him."

Kirk spun, and barely managed to dodge a swing that a large, white-coated researcher had thrown. Where the men had come from, Kirk had no idea; all that mattered was that he avoided being captured and bought time for Spock.

From a distance, there were twin shouts and the sound of phaser fire; Hastings and Hernandez were being attacked too, it seemed. Rolling, Kirk came up on his knee and swiftly fired his phaser. One man down; three to go. And from his rather compromising position on the ground, he would have to move fast if we wanted to make it out alive.

Kirk dove to the left as the three opened fire. He straightened after the roll, only to leap aside once more as a phaser beam came dangerously close to hitting his arm. This time, however, he didn't stop; using the momentum from the roll, he spun and barreled into one of his assailants. The man grunted, stumbling backwards as his phaser fire hit the ceiling. Plaster and wires rained down on the group; the lights flickered.

Lunging up, Kirk wrestled with the man, trying to grab his phaser. Somehow, he accidentally hit the trigger. Another red beam shot out, and this time a support beam was completely severed from the ceiling and promptly fell on one of Kirk's attackers. Groaning, the man was pinned to the floor, and thoroughly disoriented.

Grappling for the phaser wasn't going as well as Kirk hoped, however. His opponent was twice as strong and had nearly four inches on him, and Kirk was nearly lifted off his feet as the man attempted to bring the phaser out of his reach. Using the leverage, he jumped, his feet furiously kicking. Though all he managed to strike was the man's shins, it was worth it when the man stumbled, and Kirk was suddenly dropped as the phaser fell with him.

And not a moment too soon. The remaining henchman, who had been dodging falling plaster and beams, had shot his phaser the moment Kirk had fallen. Instead of hitting Kirk, however, the red beam tore into the spot where Kirk's head had been a millisecond before- the broad chest of the third man's ally. Though surprised, Kirk didn't hesitate. Now armed with two phasers, Kirk opened fire, and the man dropped like a stone shortly after when both a blue and red beam struck him directly above the heart.

Not wasting time, Kirk stumbled to his feet and searched for Supanik. She was slumped against the wall, miraculously still breathing. Picking her up gently, Kirk raced back to the main computer room, intending to aid Hastings and Hernandez in any way possible.

His heart rose in his mouth as he saw Hernandez bent over a fallen Hastings. Seeing his Captain race up, Hernandez said, "He's only stunned, sir. I . . . I accidentally hit him when someone rammed me."

"It's alright, lieutenant." Kirk laid Supanik down beside him. "Have you heard from Rogers?"

"No, sir."

Kirk pushed down the worry. "Help me bring these two in the computer room. They'll be safer in there."Seeing his nod, Kirk proceeded to drag Hastings into the room, while Hernandez carried in Supanik.

Spock was studying the view screens. "I am in, Captain," he said. "Transporter capabilities should be operational."

Kirk flipped open his communicator. "Kirk to _Enterprise_."

"_Uhura here, sir. The transporter is fully operational. Are you done down there?"_

Kirk could hear the worry. "Not yet, Uhura. Can you pick up on Supanik's and Hasting's signatures? They need to be beamed back. And tell Doctor Stephenson not to worry; they're only stunned."

_"Yes sir."_

Spock was currently disabling the security when he heard the familiar shimmering-chiming sound that indicated the transporter was working. Looking back briefly, he noticed that Supanik and Hastings were gone; he turned back to the computer. "All security measures are down, Captain. We shall be able to beam down the rest of the security team right away."

There was a click, and a sizzle; Spock whirled as one of the engineers suddenly fell, and the man from the Records Room stepped further inside, a phaser rifle in hand.

"I would advise you not to do so," the man said smoothly. The rifle was aimed directly at Kirk's chest. "It would be very unfortunate if your Captain died, now would it?"

/

McCoy hummed to himself as he dressed, his eyes bright with wonder and excitement. It had been some time since he had felt like this . . . since he had allowed himself to feel like this. Excited, playful, and – dare he say it? - Flirtatious. He felt eighteen again, ready to become his own man and face the world.

Though many things factored into his current mindset, it was mostly thanks to Lillian, who had found her way into his broken heart and healed it. She was the source of his teenage-like buzz, and honestly, he didn't care if it was undignified for a man of his age and experience. He liked it.

Though the cure hadn't been found that day, they had been close. Draper and his partner had managed to get an eighty-five percent water solution, which gave McCoy an excuse to sneak to the cafeteria and bring back three extra-large cheese pizzas as an impromptu party, drinks included. He had to make several trips for the drinks, however. Lillian had helped him, both slightly drenched by sloshing cups when they had finished.

After congratulating everyone on their help and reminding them that reports were due soon, he let them leave for their rooms. He and Lillian had wandered the gardens for a while, nodding at a few late-working horticulturists. They had talked about nothing, and yet, everything- their days in school, how different the research building looked at night, McCoy's adventures on the _Enterprise_. In response to her questions he told her about his temporary replacement, Alandria, his Head Nurse, Christine Chapel, and how Jim was allergic to practically every known antibiotic or vaccine known to mankind. She laughed at some of the situations Jim had gotten into during his and McCoy's Academy days, and the fateful day they had met.

She told him about Janna, and the trouble they had gotten into as kids. She shared her memories of staying at her uncle's ranch in Minnesota during the summer, how she had been locked in a closet while babysitting her young cousins, her father's obsession with making old-fashioned model wooden boats from toothpicks, how her mother could bake anything without needing a recipe. He learned that she was terrified of spiders, loved strawberry shortcake, and how when she was little she had a stuffed tiger named George who came alive whenever her parents weren't around.

Sometime during their wanderings McCoy's arm had draped itself over her shoulders and her arm had wrapped around his waist. Whenever it had happened didn't matter. It made it all the more easier to pull her closer outside her door and give her long kiss goodnight, both of them grinning stupidly and saying goodnight at least ten times before she finally made her way inside her room and closed the door.

McCoy was jerked from his musings when someone pounded at his door. Frowning, shirt in hand, he glanced at the clock- it was nearly midnight. Who would be up? He tossed his shirt over the chair. Maybe that would teach whoever wanted him to answer the door.

Instead of an embarrassed fellow division head, however, McCoy's shocked mind barely recognized Lillian's tear-streaked face as she rammed into him, shaking with sobs.

Though his body reacted immediately by wrapping his arms around her and shutting the door after pulling her inside, his mind didn't clear until he realized they were sitting on his bed. He was muttering softly to her, saying that everything would be fine and that he was here now, so she didn't have to cry because she didn't want to look red-eyed and splotchy-faced tomorrow for work, now did she?

He had started to beg her to tell him what was wrong when she finally looked up at him. "I . . . they . . ." she couldn't find the words, and help up a piece of paper.

He looked at it, and then nearly fainted.

Lillian had been Chosen.

"Why . . .?" He choked out after regaining the ability to speak.

"I don't know," she whispered. "I had just gotten out of the shower when I noticed it had been slid under my door. It doesn't say why . . . what am I going to do?"

"What are we going to do," he corrected automatically. "And I'll tell you what- I'm going to Gordo's office right now and demand that this be changed." He was actually rising when Lily desperately pulled him back down again.

Her voice was small, scared. "It's too late. He's already asleep by now. And even if you do manage to see him, it won't make a difference. Hunter has him on strings."

"I'll find a way," He promised. "I have to!"

Lily's eyes were heavy with sadness and resignation. "I appreciate the effort," she whispered. "At least . . . at least I know there is someone who'll remember me."

She was giving up. McCoy knew as soon as she slumped against him, looking lost and hopeless. Fury rose within him – at Hunter, at Gordo, at himself- for seeing this beautiful, wonderful woman break down and give up, when she was so full of life, ambition, and wonder. Voice tight, he said, "I'm not the only one. There's a starship waiting for you, Lily- don't give up. You're still alive; keep fighting!"

A spark of life shone in her features. Looking up at him, she murmured, "For you, I will."

Then she kissed him.

It was a desperate gesture, one seeking solace, hope, protection, and love. McCoy was always willing to help someone in need, and even though this was different, he didn't hesitate in kissing her back. He tried showing with his actions that he would always be there for her, and that he would protect her with everything he had. If the way she responded were any indication, he believed she knew.

Somehow, they had wriggled to the middle of the bed, locked together, not finding time to de-clothe the proper way. Thrown haphazardly across the room, various clothing items decorated random objects. Her shirt was draped over the headboard, his pants the clock, her bra hanging precariously off the edge of the bed. Later, he admitted that, though he wanted some color in his room, he hadn't quite expected it to be in this form. Still, there was no way in hell he was going to regret it. It was perfect this way.

In a part of his mind that wasn't wholly committed to the woman below him, he had to wonder at what fate was doing to him. The first time he had loved a woman, she had left his life forever, leaving only a bitter memory. Now, that threat was quite real once more. Deciding that Fate was a rather sadistic dealer, he only had time to curse it in English and half of Klingon before Lillian did something that blew away all rational thought.

Much later, as they lay entwined under the sheets, a nagging voice pestered at McCoy's mind. It was something he had wanted to talk about since they had kissed, but he had known that it wasn't the right time. Now, however, he knew that the rules had changed. As he struggled just how to voice this thought, Lily asked, "There's something bothering you, isn't there?"

He nodded. "Yes, but . . . it's not something I really want to discuss."

Lily shifted her weight so she could prop herself slightly up on her elbow. "Tell me," she ordered.

Giving in, McCoy said, "You have no idea what this relationship is putting me through, what it means to me." Seeing her worried look, he hurried to reassure her. "It's nothing that you've done, Lily, and I wouldn't have it any other way. You see, I was married before . . . but ever since I got divorced, I've been reluctant to get into another relationship. I hope you understand; I've never fully recovered from her betrayal."

Lillian was quiet. For a moment, he feared that she thought he wasn't serious about them, that he had only used her so he could get her in bed. His fears were calmed, however, when she lay back down and brushed a stray lock of hair off his face. "What happened?" She asked, her eyes filled with concern.

Though he did not mean to, McCoy found himself telling her everything. "It was half a year into our marriage when we found out she was pregnant. Never before had I felt so perfect . . . even my promotion to Head of Surgery was overshadowed. I was ecstatic. My wife joked that I showered more attention onto the unborn baby than I ever had to her; indeed, I brought home a baby toy or something similar every other day." He chuckled lightly. "Those were the good days. We rarely argued, and for once, it seemed everything was right in the world.

"Even when she was born, my feeling hadn't left. She was so beautiful, our little Joanna . . . my baby girl." He gave her a small smile. "I'm sorry I froze up on you the day you told me your middle name. It wasn't what I was expecting."

She shook her head, kissing him softly. "It's alright. Now, stop trying to change the subject!"

Rolling his eyes, he continued. "The weeks after she was born were the best of my life. I bragged constantly to my co-workers, patients, everyone I could find and shove a picture in their face. Having been known as the cantankerous, constantly unsatisfied surgeon throughout my stay there, it was quite a shock to all who knew me.

"It was after I returned from a convention that everything went wrong."

His voice had grown to a faint whisper; to Lillian's surprise, a tear rolled down his cheek. Biting her lower lip, she cupped his face with her hand, allowing him to compose himself. Slowly, he began, but the words began to rush out as if he needed to let it out. "I didn't know the man who sat next to me on the shuttlecraft had a mutation of the Andorian Fever. Though it wasn't lethal to adults, it was highly contagious. It was on my clothes and skin when I got home- and I transferred it to my baby. Joanna was barely four months old. She was sleeping when I got home, and I had picked her up, wanting to hold her after being gone for three days." His voice was overcome with emotion. He lapsed into silence again, and fearfully, Lily asked, "Was she ok?"

"There was no successful cure for children under three years of age," He said flatly. "We did everything we could, but . . ." he swallowed back a sob. "She was seven months old when we buried her. My wife, Jocelyn- she always went by her middle name, Trisha- grew distant after that. We never stopped arguing. Every word that we said to each other was in a yell or louder. We grew farther and farther apart . . . and when I came home early one day to find her in the arms of another man, I lost all hope of regaining what we had lost. We divorced two months later."

His tale done, McCoy simply stared mutely at the ceiling, feeling drained and empty. Who was the last person he had told about this? No one, he realized. Jim had guessed, somewhat, but even he hadn't known all the details about McCoy's life before they met on the shuttlecraft. Opening up like this about Joanna and Trisha had never been done before.

Lillian was quiet too, her green eyes hazy with unshed tears. After a long silence, she finally said, "I was betrayed once, too."

He turned his head to look at her as she continued. "I was dating a boy who had promised to help me get into a prestigious university with him. Naïve as I was, I believed him. It wasn't until later that I realized he had wanted me for my father's connections. During the last two months of our relationship, he was sleeping with another woman, the daughter of the head of the university. When I found out, it was too late- he had destroyed my reputation, and it was all I could do to leave with my pride intact. My father was furious. He did everything in his power to fix it, but there was nothing to be done. The University refused me entrance, and I was forced to go to a Secondary School. I had depended on my boyfriend to help me, but he never did. I understand what you're going through. I feel the same way." Her eyes met his, determination gleaming within them. "Perhaps that was why we were attracted to each other initially. We could sense something broken within the other, and remembering our own experiences, we wanted to mend each other."

Though he doubted that was it, something about her words seemed to resonate within him. Maybe he had done that, unconsciously. "Maybe. But whatever the reason, I'm just glad that I have you. That's all that matters now."

Her smile was the most beautiful he had ever seen. "I agree," she said before kissing him.

McCoy's mind was made up. Now that Lillian was his, he had a stronger reason to keep on going forward. One day, he hoped that she, too, would find a reason to stand firmly- but, if he failed, she wouldn't have that chance.

He only left her side when she was sound asleep; a quick peek at the alarm showed that it was nearly two in the morning. He ignored it. Padding over to the computer after pulling on his boxers, he began to write out a letter to the _Enterprise_, explaining everything that had happened and all he knew (leaving out his and Lily's relationship; Jim didn't need to know about that yet). No doubt when Jim got this he would find some way to get Lily out and bring Hunter and Gordo to justice. Until he was able to get back, however, McCoy was going to take matters into his own hands.

After taking a quick shower, McCoy got dressed and rifled through his still-unpacked belongings. Jim had packed a phaser in there ("Just in case someone pisses you off and you need more ammunition than those WMD's you call hypos"), and somewhere he had his medkit filled with tranquilizers that he had carried in case Jim got to out of hand.

Finding both phaser and medkit, he dropped the phaser in his coat pocket and slung the medkit over his shoulder. He was folding up Lillian's letter when she stirred, looking at him sleepily. "Leo?" she mumbled. "Where are you going?"

His heart quickened at the nickname, but his voice was calm. "I'm going to do something I should have done a long time ago." Crossing the room, he bent down and gave her a quick kiss on the forehead. "Go back to sleep, and don't open the door to anyone unless it's me. I'm going to take care of this once and for all."

"Be careful," she said, worried, as he straightened. He smiled softly.

"I will."

He didn't look back as he left the room, knowing that if he did so, he wouldn't be able to leave. His resolution and determination hardening and growing with every footstep, he marched up to Gordo's office and flung the door open, not even bothering to knock. Ignoring the Commander's wide-eyed look of surprise as he held a fork of eggs halfway to his mouth, McCoy stalked over to him and slammed the letter down. "What," he seethed, "the hell is this?"

Gordo didn't seem to notice that the eggs had fallen off his fork as the stared at the letter. "Ah," he finally managed to say. "Miss Thompson has been Chosen."

_"You promised you'd protect my researchers!"_ McCoy shouted.

Sweat had broken out along the man's hairline. The fork was set down with shaky hands. "I, uh, did. However, you must know that Hunter is a man of his own . . ."

"You run this damn station!" McCoy interrupted. "You are a Commander, though God only knows why. You couldn't find your way out of a one-way maze."

The Commander's eyes grew even wider. "Now, see here," he began, but McCoy was having none of that. Slamming his hand down on the paper, he grabbed Gordo's shirt collar and literally dragged the larger man across the desk until they were centimeters apart. His voice low and dangerous, McCoy said with narrowed eyes, "I don't care what you have to say. I don't care if Hunter has blackmailed you. This is your last chance to do something right, to redeem yourself from the hole you have dug. Lillian is not Chosen. She will not become one of Hunter's toys. You will stop him, or I will take matters into my own hands. Understood?"

Though upon graduating from Med School McCoy had sworn to never take another's life intentionally, both he and Gordo knew that the doctor would not hesitate to kill if it meant saving Lillian's life. Whether or not McCoy would be psychologically affected afterwards wasn't the point; the Georgian doctor had a murderous look in his eyes, and it scared Gordo immensely. Even with all his dealings with Hunter, even with knowing what went on below their feet, he had never known the true darkness of the human soul. Looking now into McCoy's eyes, Gordo realized that things had spiraled out of his control, and in the end, he would be the one to take the blame. He couldn't bribe his way out anymore. He had finally lost.

"I'll… I'll see what I can do," He finally croaked.

McCoy dropped his collar so abruptly Gordo nearly face-planted onto the desk. McCoy left without another word, but the room felt darker all the same. Feverishly, Gordo ignored the smashed breakfast and hurried through a side door that led down to Hunter's domain.

/

Though McCoy's late entrance caused concern, it was his black expression and no Lillian that caused the researchers to pause. Uneasily, they gathered around his desk, where he stood like a vengeful god.

"Lillian has been Chosen." He said without preamble. A stunned and horrified silence instantly fell upon the room. Near the back, Shifflet paled considerably, his hands shaking with fear.

McCoy continued. "If you have no intention of being dragged into this, I will allow you to leave now. Go back to your rooms, wait for things to pass, and be spared from whatever aftermath comes to this place."

He allowed ten heartbeats to pass. No one moved, nor made a sound, during that time. Nodding curtly, McCoy said, "Alright. We end this, now."

McCoy wasn't the strategist Jim was. Far from it. However, that hardly mattered. When love drives a person, they are capable of incredible feats. Normally, these actions would be considered insane, suicidal, or just flat-out idiotic, but when love was added into the equation, all rationality was blown out the window to curl up and die. McCoy didn't care what happened to him. All that mattered was protecting Lillian.

"Arram, Sarrasri, Gregory, and Thomas. You four are the closest to this cure. I want you to do everything you can to find it today. Barber, Goldstein, De la Rosa, and Hawthorne, you are their worker bees. Get them whatever they need, as quick as you can, no ifs ands or buts about it. The rest of you, I need you to cause as much chaos as you can to draw as much attention as possible up here. Knock someone out, set a fire, cause a nuclear reaction, I don't care. Just keep everyone detained long enough so I can finish what I came here to start."

Worried, Arram asked, "What will you be doing, sir?"

McCoy didn't skip a beat. "I'm going to confront Hunter, and this will end, one way or another."

Arram swallowed, and Sarrasri laid a hand on his shoulder, squeezing slightly.

In the silence that followed, McCoy met the eyes of each and every one of his assistants. Though the expressions ranged from terror to determination to shock, he knew all were willing to support him. Nodding once, he said, "Let's get to work."

They scattered. The eight assigned to find the cure went to their stations; the rest streamed out of the room behind McCoy, racing off in different directions. McCoy felt the phaser grow heavy in his pocket. Though it would only be a last resort, he somehow knew that he would have to draw the weapon. Whether or not he would actually fire it remained to be seen; but he would deal with that when the time came. Walking around the corner, he stopped in front of a metal door, knowing that this was one of the many entrances to the basement level. Placing his hand on the handle, there was the briefest moment's hesitation. Had anyone been around to look, they would notice the look of pure fear and helplessness on McCoy's face as he wondered if this would all work out. Then he thought of Lillian, probably still asleep in his bed, and the dark, protective instinct consumed him again. Throwing the door open, he began his descent into the semi-darkness of the stairwell, the echoes of his footsteps ringing out into the passageway even after he was long out of sight.

* * *

That fight scene was an epic fail. Sorry, guys.

Review, please! I'd like to know what ya'll think :)


	13. Chapter 13

Good lord, has it really been this long since I updated...?

* * *

The hallway was dark, gloomy, and unsanitary. He seemed to have entered a service hallway, for all that surrounded him were exposed plumbing, wiring, and various equipments he had no use for. Water dripped somewhere ahead of him, and he wrinkled his nose at the smell of mildew. Trudging onward, he kept an eye out for a doorway, wondering if the entire basement level was like this.

He had travelled about the length of a football field when he saw a small door set into the wall. There was no sign to say where it led, but McCoy took the chance. Pulling it open, he sighed in relief when he saw a clean, white hallway. Though the light momentarily blinded him, his eyes adjusted rapidly as he pulled the door closed.

There were a lot of doorways down this hallway, McCoy realized. He counted at least twenty before another hallway dissected the one he was in, and he realized that he was a little hasty in coming after Hunter alone. He had no idea where he was. With no map to guide him, McCoy felt helplessly lost before deciding to wing it and choose a direction at random. After all, he was bound to run into somebody; if he couldn't find Hunter, then they certainly could.

That didn't mean McCoy wanted to get caught, though. When a pair of voices floated toward him, McCoy instantly pretended that he was engrossed in reading the reading of the small glowing label next to one of the doors as two researchers passed him, continuing around the corner. McCoy let out a small sigh of relief, and turned to go.

"Doctor McCoy? Is that you?"

McCoy froze. He recognized that Scottish accent, but to hear it in a place like this . . .

Slowly, he turned, and saw a figure across from the door he had been standing at. Sure enough, Montgomery Scott was staring at him through the small window inside the door, haggard and pale but alive.

McCoy ran over. "Scotty! What are doing here? How long have they had you? What have they done?"

Scotty winced. "Easy, Doctor! I kinnae answer all at once!" Taking a breath, he replied, "I was on a recon mission fer Kirk when I was captured. I don' know when that was… I've been locked up since then. So far as I know, I've been here a day or two. They haven't done anythin' . . . yet."

McCoy pulled out the phaser. Scotty's eyes widened. "Doctor McCoy, you're a miracle, that's what yeh are!"

"Stand aside," McCoy said grimly. "I don't want you to be hit accidentally."

The engineer obliged, and McCoy proceeded to cut a rough hole out of the door. It took longer than he would have liked, and if Scotty hadn't been on meager rations during his imprisonment, he wouldn't have fit through. As it was, he barely made it; his uniform ripped slightly when he squeezed through, but he was otherwise unharmed.

McCoy was startled when the engineer enthusiastically hugged him, though. "Thank ye, doctor! I thought I was goin' to be stuck there forever!"

Embarrassed, McCoy slipped out of his embrace. "Be quiet, Scotty. No one knows I'm down here; I don't want you caught and put back in another cell!" He handed him the phaser. "You know how to use this better than me. Keep an eye out for any researchers while I look for Hunter."

Scotty's face instantly grew somber. "Ye must be a madman lookin' for the likes of him, Doctor. I've heard some of the workers here talkin' about his experiments; it ain't pretty."

"I know, Scotty. I'm here to stop him."

That seemed enough for the engineer; he joined McCoy as his personal body guard, wary and ready for anything. McCoy was impressed. Scotty had always seemed like a rather enthusiastic puppy left in a large field to romp, but when the situation demanded it, he was as serious and well-trained as the best Starfleet officer. McCoy was glad he had found him, not just because he could count on Scotty to protect him, but also because he would have been shattered if he found out the well-loved engineer had been locked up and he hadn't been able to save him.

The duo soon realized that the basement level wasn't that big. Scotty had stunned a researcher who had spotted them, and after dragging him into a closet they went through his pockets to find anything useful. McCoy had gained a new hypo and, and Scotty had found a padd that held the map to the basement. After figuring where they were and the most likely area for Hunter to be, they set off to confront the enigmatic being that had the entire station under his thumb.

Scotty filled McCoy in on Kirk's problem to the best of his knowledge, explaining the suspicious activities of Theron's tunnels and how he had been in a laboratory complex similar to this one before being caught and shipped to this planet. That awoke a slight suspicion within McCoy, but he dwelled no further on it. In return, he told Scotty everything that had happened on Theta-Six, up to the point where he had found the engineer. Mournfully, Scotty shook his head.

"I don' know anythin' about medicine, Doctor," Scotty replied, "But in my opinion, experimentin' with human lives is the worse crime one can commit."

McCoy nodded. "I agree, Scotty," he said softly. "I couldn't have said it better myself."

Surprised at the compliment, Scotty beamed at him.

They were silent for the rest of the walk. Scotty had the phaser comfortably in his hands, while McCoy had his medkit ready to use should the need arise. When they arrived at the door bearing the name 'Tristan Hunter' on the plaque, McCoy took a moment to compose himself while Scotty checked out the security. "It's a standard door, Doctor," he said quietly. "But the code on this keypad looks complicated."

"Can't you rewireit?" McCoy asked bluntly. "You're the Head Engineer."

Looking hurt, Scotty replied, "I said it looked complicated, not impossible. I'll only be a minute." Using the phaser to cut out a section of the wall, Scotty began muttering to himself as he viewed the wires.

Seconds later, he let out a satisfied sound and the key pad flickered. "It'll let anyone in, now," Scotty said satisfactorily. "Just approach the door."

McCoy did so without hesitation. The door slid open, revealing a lush office with expensive furniture, and paintings adorning the wall. A fireplace took up part of the left wall, and a bookshelf was next to the desk. But there was no Hunter.

"D'ye have a padd on ye, Doctor?" Scotty asked as he walked up to the computer.

McCoy handed him his. The engineer nodded. "This'll do. Let's get some information while we're at it; shouldn't take too long. Inputting equation and . . . there! Password bypassed." Happily, Scotty set to downloading as many files as he could, getting McCoy's permission to delete everything on the padd to make room for Hunter's computer.

McCoy spent the time worrying about Lillian, his researchers, and Jim. It figured that the reckless Captain had gotten involved in some sort of conspiracy. Then again, hadn't McCoy? Even though he hadn't realized it, he had decided to investigate the Choosing and poke his nose into this business with the so-called medications. Reluctantly, he realized Jim had made a bigger impression on him than he had realized.

Pacing the office, McCoy spent nearly as much time worrying that Hunter would walk in on them. Though this would surely make things easier, Scotty was fiddling with the computer terminal and McCoy was unarmed and unskilled in hand-to-hand combat. Hunter would have the immediate advantage, if McCoy or Scotty failed to first recover from surprise. To occupy his thoughts, McCoy began examining things that he found on the shelves- plaques, folders, various sporting equipment, and books.

Luckily (or perhaps not-so-luckily) Scotty was able to finish without any incident and handed McCoy back his padd. "I downloaded all I could, Doctor. This should be sufficient evidence to turn him in to a court-martial though."

"Thanks, Scotty. Now let's go find him."

This time, they didn't plan a specific way. They simply ran, peering into as many doorways as they could, desperately trying to find the man that had caused so much horror pain. A few times McCoy glimpsed humanoid figures huddled on cots, but he didn't dare stay long enough to examine them. He knew that if he did, he would have nightmares for weeks.

It was by sheer luck that they didn't run into any researchers. The all seemed to be in the laboratories, so far as the two shipmates could tell; they didn't linger in that hallway, preferring to high-tail it out of there as fast as they could.

Rounding the corner, they found themselves facing a pair of large double-doors. Across the plaque, the words read, 'Testing Center'.

/

Gordo had been breathing heavy by the time he reached Hunter's office. Taking a moment to catch his breath, he punched in the code with shaking hands, the door sliding open willingly. Hunter didn't seem surprised to see him."Do you need something, Commander?" the man asked, not even looking up from his computer terminal.

"McCoy's grown violent!" Gordo immediately exclaimed, wringing his hands. "Because you chose Thompson, he's threatening to reveal everything! You have to let her go!"

Contemptuously, Hunter looked at Gordo. "You fool. That is the last thing I would do."

"But…!"  
"Quiet!" Hunter seethed, and Gordo collapsed into a chair, quivering. Hunter slowly shook his head. "McCoy knows too much. Giving him back Thompson will only let him get away with this; so long as we have her, he won't do anything to risk her life. She is leverage, and McCoy will be willing to listen if that means he's able to save her. From what I've heard of the good doctor, he'd trade his own life for another's without second thought. With him here, I can control him, and gain two new experiments instead of one."

The commander paled. "They will know he disappeared. His research team, they know something to. Captain Kirk. Starfleet. If he disappears, they'll find out."

Hunter gave a small, cold smile. "By then, it will be too late. The drug will have been released, and they will be more concerned about the virus than a missing doctor. They can do little in a month's time. Do not worry." He turned back to the computer.

Unsatisfied, Gordo stood up and began pacing nervously, muttering to himself. Hunter frowned slightly. "If you are done, Commander, I must ask you to leave. I have work to do."

"We're doomed." The commander said in response. "Our plans, ruined."

Hunter sighed. "Stop being so melodramatic." Briefly, he wondered if he could just dispose of Gordo; he wasn't necessary anymore, and all information he could gain from the commander had already been extracted. The only thing keeping him alive was the need for his signature to accept the virus for mass production. And Hunter could easily forge his signature- he had done so frequently in the past.

He was eyeing the drawer which held his phaser when the door opened once more, revealing his second-in-command. The woman gave only the slightest of glances in Gordo's direction; nodding at Hunter, she replied, "I have a report from Theron, sir. It seems the Captain of the _Enterprise_ has become a problem. They suspect he knows something."

Well, that was unexpected. Hunter didn't let it faze him. "A minor setback, Waters. Tell Phoren that he needs to update security and keep a close on the President. I never did trust Sopthern, and it seems I was correct."

"I will do so, sir." She exited.

Hunter rose. "It seems I am needed on Theron. Thompson will come with me, as will McCoy, when he shows up." To his irritation Gordo insisted upon following him.

They were in the testing center when the first researcher found him. "There's chaos up there, sir," he panted. "Horticulture is on fire, and there was a fight in the cafeteria. Somehow, the Chemistry wing was partially blown apart. It's a madhouse!"

"Get security on it," Hunter ordered. The man scuttled off.

The Head of Security showed up ten minutes later. "We have the girl, sir. Found her in McCoy's room. She put up a fight, too; knocked out two of my men before we were able to sedate her."

"What is the situation upstairs?"

"Not good sir." The man looked uncomfortable. "We've gotten many round up, but whenever we get one area under control, there's another situation elsewhere. We had to evacuate the physics labs because radioactive material was handled improperly. I have my men trying to figure out who is causing this, but no one's talking."

Hunter's face showed no emotion, and his voice was deadpan when he spoke. "Bring the girl here. And Brown, I trust you will have this under control within the hour."

There was something in Hunter's voice during the last part that promised a painful, slow punishment if Brown failed. Swallowing, he bowed quickly and nearly fled the room. Two of his men took his place, Lillian hanging limp between them.

"Bring her here," Hunter ordered. "Gordo, ready the shuttle."

The commander nodded once, quickly, then sped away as fast as his legs could carry him. The two security guards laid Lillian down on the table, and after seeing Hunter's dismissive wave returned to help out upstairs. Their leader looked down at the woman without expression, then calmly walked over to a cabinet and pulled out a hypo.

Lillian stirred. Blinking in confusion, her green eyes frantically searched her surroundings; when they fell upon Hunter, she froze, terror etched onto her face.

"Good morning, Miss Thompson," Hunter said. "May I ask a favor?"

/

McCoy barely read the words on the door. He stormed in without a second's thought. Upon seeing what was in front of him, however, he froze; lead built up in his stomach.

A man about his age, with light brown hair and an ordinary face, was holding Lillian in a chokehold near a dissecting table. What caught McCoy's attention about his appearance was that his eyes were heterochromatic- one brown, one blue. A hypo was in his free hand, poised directly above Lillian's heart.

"So glad you could join us, Doctor," Hunter said pleasantly. His voice didn't suit him. It was rich, flavorful, like honey and syrup. It reminded McCoy of the voice belonging to a favorite uncle, one who always gave gifts to his nieces and nephews and laughed whenever the children returned dirty and muddy from playing outdoors as his wife scolded them. Coming from the mouth of someone like Hunter . . . somehow, it made McCoy hate him all the more.

Stiffly, McCoy said, "The game's up, Hunter. I know about the drug. Give Lillian to me."

The researcher slowly shook his head. "Doctor, doctor, doctor… or should I call you Bones? You seem to like that name better." He smiled when McCoy flinched at the name. "Do you understand nothing of bargaining? When one has the most priceless object, they don't give it up unless something equally valuable is given in exchange. What, may I ask, do you have?" His eyes flickered to Scotty. "A phaser? It's useless unless I turn my back, which I will not do. Threats? No one knows you're down here, Bones. I could kill you right now, and no one can stop me."

Scotty, enraged, opened his mouth to speak, but McCoy laid a hand on his arm. "This is my battle," he said, softly. The engineer, with great reluctance, stepped down; his glare remained on Hunter, however.

McCoy took a step forward. "I'm a doctor," He said. "Not a salesman. But I know enough about bargaining and wealth to know that I can't come unprepared to an auction. Yes, you have Lillian, and I must applaud you that you have learned enough about me to strike at my weak spot. However," he gave a dark smile, "You forgot that Captain Kirk is my best friend, and that he'll be willing to help me in any way he can. I have already sent him a message telling him of all that is going on right here. I do not doubt that he is on his way, and when he arrives, all hell will break loose."

Hunter was silent for a moment. Lillian trembled, her eyes pleading with McCoy to help her. He didn't dare look at her. His eyes were on Hunter, and it took all his years and experience to detect the faint flicker of fear he saw there.

"You give a convincing argument," the researcher said at last. "But you do now know how far away the _Enterprise_ is. It could be days before they arrive, and by then it will be too late. You'll have to do better than that. And don't bother mentioning your cure; I know that you haven't discovered it yet, and there isn't the machinery here to do that for you."

Hunter knew he had won. He was in complete control of McCoy, and so long as he had Lillian, he would remain to be so. The man loved the girl; it was obvious by the way he reacted. Kirk and the _Enterprise_ were not threat, and by the time Starfleet were notified it would be too late. Lillian was between him and the phaser, so Scott was also barred from action. McCoy had no other leverage. It was over.

It was a surprise, therefore, when McCoy spoke again. "Maybe so," the doctor said. "It is true that I do not know how far away the _Enterprise_ is, nor what the cure is. However, I do have this."

Out of his pocket, he pulled out a tennis ball.

Stunned silence met his action. Even Scotty slightly lowered his weapon, staring at McCoy in confusion. "Are ye mad, doctor? A tennis ball won't do any damage!"

"Depends on what type of damage you want to cause," McCoy replied, thought he shared his companion's surprise. He hadn't even realized it when, trying to carry three books, the tennis ball, four folders and a padd back to their rightful places he had stuck the tennis ball in his pocket without even realizing it.

Hunter let out a small laugh. "A tennis ball, Bones?" he asked incredulously. "What are you going to do, bounce me to death?"

McCoy raised an eyebrow. "Catch."

He threw the ball at Hunter. His aim was perfect; Hunter raised his free hand to catch the ball, an amused smile on his face. "I would love to play, Bones, but I have a flight to catch. There's business on Theron . . ."

He got no further. A beam tore through his side, and he fell to the ground.

With a sob, Lillian ran to McCoy, slamming into him. McCoy nodded at Scotty. "Good aim, sir."

Scotty nodded grimly. At first, he had been clueless to McCoy's game; but it became clear after a few seconds time.

What Hunter hadn't realized was that when he had reached to catch the ball, he took his eyes off of Scotty and McCoy and had turned his body slightly to the left. The mistake cost him. Starfleet training kicking in, Scotty had recognized the opening and acted accordingly. A jump to the right and a swift trigger finger had ended Hunter's life, and it was now over.

McCoy and Lily had sunk to the ground, arms firmly wrapped around each other and holding on for dear life. Lily's head was in the crook of his neck and shoulder, and didn't seem to be leaving any time soon; his was buried in her hair, eyes squeezed shut. A part of him was convinced that if they did open, the dream would end.

Not wanting to interrupt the two, Scotty modestly turned away and walked over to examine Hunter. The man was staring up at the ceiling with wide open eyes; there was a scorch mark on his left shoulder where Scotty's phaser beam had hit him. Nudging the man with his foot, Scotty bent over to examine the researcher closer. The phaser had done its job, alright. Hunter was rigid, eyes blank, and unmoving. Yet something didn't feel right to the engineer. Everything had happened so fast, and instinct had taken over. A niggling doubt pestered at him.

Nearby, McCoy was rocking Lillian slightly, murmuring to her. "I'm here, Lily. You're safe now; Hunter is dead, and we've stopped him. I have you."

"Leo, Leo, Leo," She sobbed. It seemed to be the only thing she could say. That, and, "You came."

"Sssssh. I know. It's alright."

McCoy finally forced himself to look up. Gratitude was written all over him as he looked at Scotty; the engineer, who had looked back at the pair, smiled. Standing, he moved to return.

Movement; in a flash, Hunter was upright, and injecting Scotty with the hypo he had in his hands. Scotty staggered, taken by surprise.

"No!" McCoy shouted, scrambling upwards. But he was too late. The hypo had been emptied, and Hunter had fled, the only chance they had at getting a cure leaving with him.

"The beam . . . the beam was blue," Scotty said, sounding dazed. "I remember now. I didn't . . . I didn't switch it to kill after I stunned that researcher."

"Scotty!" McCoy said desperately. "Talk to me; what's happening? Are you hurt?"

"He was stunned; only stunned . . ." Scotty said in way of reply.

As McCoy desperately tried to get his crewmate to respond, Lily, who had stayed latched on to McCoy's arm, heard the fear and helplessness in the doctor. Though still terrified, Lily knew that she would only be a burden by acting like a helpless child. Swallowing back a sob, she whispered, "I'll take care of Scotty. You go after Hunter."

McCoy looked at her with a worried look. "Lily, are you crazy? He wants you, too!"

She shook her head. "Hunter's gone, Leo. His men won't do anything without him around to tell them to do so. Besides," She gave him a shaky smile, "I have a phaser. I'm not such a bad shot."

He knew she was bluffing. She knew he could tell. Yet the immediate threat of Hunter and the need to learn the cure was more important. McCoy kissed her briefly, then growled, "If you're not here when I return, I swear I'll never forgive you, woman."

"Just go," She said softly.

He rose, and after one last, lingering look, left the area to chase after Hunter.

Lily took his spot, still shaking, still crying, but with a growing sense of wonder and relief- she was still alive.

Now, all she had to do was stay that way until McCoy returned.

/

The room was deathly silent. Only the faint rise and fall of each occupant's chest indicated that they were actual living beings, not just remarkably life-like statues. Kirk didn't dare look anywhere else but the eyes of the man holding the phaser rifle. He knew that the first sign of movement could startle the man into firing.

Slowly, his mouth barely moving, Kirk said, "Spock."

The Vulcan gave a small nod.

The researcher looked around the room, seeming to notice the Vulcan for the first time. "Put the security defenses back up. I have your Captain's life in my hands; I advise you to do so."

"And if I refuse?"

"Then he dies."

Spock considered this for a moment. Then, slowly, he turned back to the console.

The man nodded. "Thank you." His eyes scanned the room again. "Captain, I truly do regret going to this extreme. I am a man of science; things like this are foreign to me." He gave an apologetic smile and shrugged slightly.

Kirk's voice was neutral when he responded. "Strange how someone's true character comes out in times of crisis."

This seemed to amuse the researcher. "Indeed. It is when our back is to the wall, when there is no option left that our base nature comes out. During these times, we see no other option but to completely surrender to our emotions and let them drive us. Unlikely heroes can emerge, but also the worst of criminals." He paused, considering, for a moment. "I wonder Captain; what would you become?"

"I like to think that I already know," Kirk replied, catching the glance Spock threw at him. "But I would never tell the likes of you."

The researcher frowned, and stepped forward. But even as he was moving, he froze, and began to disintegrate and sparkle before Kirk's eyes. The transporter had whisked him away before Kirk had even gotten to his feet.

"Lieutenant Uhura reports that the man is in the good hands of the security team," Spock said. "Surprisingly, he didn't put up a fight."

"Why would he? He can't face down an entire starship." Kirk moved over to the fallen engineer, saying, "We need to beam him up, too."

Spock complied. After communicating with Uhura once more, he arranged for the man to be sent to sickbay, and thus, Alandria- this pained Kirk, for he knew the burden he was placing on the doctor's shoulders, but there was no helping it.

"Spock," Kirk said, "prepare to beam down more security teams. We'll storm this place, round up the researchers, and see if we can't help the poor people they are experimenting on." Running a hand through his hair, he said, "I'll go find my missing security guard."

Rogers had been under Kirk's command since the beginning, and a more loyal man couldn't be found. Kirk had become friends with the man in a short amount of time, and should anything happen to him Kirk knew he would never forgive himself. Though Rogers was an excellent shot, this place had already proved to be more dangerous than anticipated. He had been ambushed twice, all within the span of an hour. So far, the odds of Rogers getting out safely weren't looking to good, and this realization quickened Kirk's pace.

"Henry?" Kirk called, heading the way Rogers had gone. The halls were silent. The researchers that had been here had either fled or were recently rendered unconscious; he recognized the effects of a stunning. So, he had been here recently; hoping that Rogers hadn't gotten himself into too much trouble, Kirk called out his name again.

He was relieved to see the familiar red shirt in front of him, phaser at the 'ready' position. The man relaxed when he recognized him. "Captain! Thank god you're ok!" The man's relief was palpable; he had had a crazed, frantic look in his eyes that spoke of fear, or perhaps the after-effects of battle; judging from the number of slumped forms scattered around the Security guard, Kirk suspected the latter.

"Same here," Kirk smiled. "Come on. We've got everything under control; there will be back-up shortly."

"Best news I've heard all day," The man said cheerfully, relaxing even more. He whistled merrily, giving Kirk a sideways glance. "So, are we finally done here?"

"I think so," Kirk laughed.

They joined the others, and security officers were already gathering in the hallway outside. Spock was dividing them up, sending them in different areas of the research center and informing them to keep in constant contact with each other and him. Seeing that everything was well in hand, Kirk felt some relief to be beamed back on board.

"Captain," Uhura said as soon as he entered the bridge, "the President wishes to speak with you."  
"Put him on the screen," Kirk said. Uhura complied, and soon Sopthern was visible, a genuine smile on his face. For once, he didn't have the ever-present undercurrent of scrutiny and suspicion.

Kirk had to smile, too. "I take it you know, already?" he asked.

"Your communications officer conveyed the news to me. Captain, I must thank you from the bottom of my heart for ridding us of this plague. Theron can exist in peace once more." His tone was genuine, no longer grave and formal. Kirk felt a mild relief at finally earning the President's respect.

"Think nothing of it, sir. Just doing my duty." Kirk hesitated, then added, "I can send you a copy of the files found in the tunnel if you'd like. They are as much yours as the Federation."

Sopthern inclined his head. "I would like that, Captain. Thank you." He paused for a second, then added, "Should you, or any Federation member, visit our world, we will not hesitate to welcome them."

"Thank you, sir."

A message came over the intercom. Kirk recognized Alandria's voice. _Kirk to Medical Bay._

The President heard it, too. After another 'thank you' he ended the call, and Kirk rose with a heavy heart to visit Alandria.

The doctor was bent over the body of the fallen engineer, her back to Jim. "Is he alright?" He asked, quietly.

She turned to look at him, a weary look on her face. "He and Supanik are both fine. The phaser wasn't fully charged; though it did play havoc with his heart, I have stabilized it enough so he can live. Unfortunately, he won't be able to work on the _Enterprise_ anymore, Jim. The type of machinery we have on board has a high risk of sending him into a relapse and could quite possibly kill him next time." Her words were delivered quietly, but heavily; he knew she wished she could have found another way. For the first time, he noticed the dark circles under her eyes, the barely perceptible tremor that ran through her slim frame; he wondered when she had last slept.

"Does he know?"

"Not yet; I put him under, and won't let him come fully awake until a few days time to make sure his heart is still stable." Blue eyes troubled, she looked at him. "He's going to have to stay in sickbay, Jim. I don't want to run a risk of the machinery in this ship to trigger a relapse."

"How serious is it?"

"Serious enough. Small machinery, like replicators, hovercrafts, and other everyday items will be fine. However, the engines aboard a starship are strictly off-limits due to the sheer size of them, and I will strongly resist letting him travel via transport beam for at least a year or two. I can't yet say what it will do." She hesitated, glancing down at the still figure at the bed. "I will help him transition in any way I can. There is always a need for repairmen in suburbs and cities, and he can still help build parts for a starship so long as no heavy machinery is involved. It's not about strain, although enough of that can be dangerous. It's that the signals and anti-matter that is released can upset the rhythms of his heart, and enough radiation can stop it altogether."

"So as long as he watches what he's around, he'll be fine?"

"Yes."

He laid a hand on her shoulder. "Thank you, Alandria. I knew you could save him." Though he knew it would be hard telling the engineer that he could no longer work with what he was trained to do, it was better than death. Kirk only hoped that the man would realize that, in time.

Seeing that small smile he was so fond of, he knew he had succeeded in making her feel better, if only slightly. What surprised him, however, was that she put her own hand on his shoulder. "Thank you for bringing him back."

Laughing lightly, Kirk dropped his hand. "Supanik is alright?"

"Yes. She's already back on duty." Turning back to her patient, she called over her shoulder, "I have a few sedatives ready in case any of our prisoners act up."

Oh, that was what he still had to do. Muttering under his breath, Kirk hastily left Medical Bay, racing back to the bridge to organize which of the prisoners will be placed in the brig and to arrange for a court martial.

Kept busy the entire day, Kirk raced between the brig, transporter room, and bridge, allowing Sopthern custody of some of the research personnel, keeping others so they could answer to Starfleet, and talking with various Admirals and generally being chewed out as much as congratulated for taking action. The prisoners, at least, were being cooperative; many sincerely had no idea what was going on, as they were only involved in the 'legal' side of the operation. The ones who knew about the experiments and had willingly participated in them were silent, refusing to answer specifics, but gave out general information easily enough. Frustrated, Kirk eventually had to hand over the interrogations to his security team and Spock; he gave the Vulcan permission to use a mind-meld if absolutely necessary, but both hoped that it wouldn't result to that.

Pike was one of the few who didn't start his transmission with the number of regulations he had broken. Instead, the former Captain simply asked, "Had your ass handed to you, I presume?"

"Don't you know it," Kirk agreed ruefully. Laughing, Pike shook his head. "I told you Starfleet was missing someone like you. They've been running around like chickens with their heads cut off for some time, trying to find a way to drag you back home and rake you over the coals. Luckily, I've found a couple of loopholes." With a fatherly wink, Pike added, "Keep up the good work, kid. I know you'll go far."

"Thanks, sir."

"So, would you like to tell me just what kind of trouble you got into this time?"

They chatted for a few more minutes, until Kirk was summoned to the bridge. Apologizing, Kirk ended the transmission and went up to see Uhura pacing worriedly.

"What's up?" Kirk asked, immediately concerned.

Spock, who was standing nearby, gently touched his bond-mate's shoulder. As if getting strength from that simple touch, Uhura straightened. "Captain, I've been busy with the business on Theron, and I've slacked on other messages. At roughly oh-one-hundred hours this morning, Earth time, Doctor McCoy contacted the ship."

She paused, searching his reaction. Kirk was blank with shock. What had McCoy wanted with the ship? Uhura's expression was more than enough evidence that it wasn't good. With a nod, Kirk allowed her to go on.

The communication's officer bit her lower lip. "Sir, he updated us on what was going on at the research station at Theta-Six. Hunter is there. And McCoy is going to confront him."

His veins turned to ice. "McCoy? Are you sure?"

She nodded. "Yes, sir. I have the message here."

The bridge was silent, every member on board watching the Captain. His face giving nothing away, Kirk turned to Chekov. "Ensign, set a course for Theta-Six. Spock," he looked at his First Officer, "have all the researchers been accounted for?"

"Yes, sir. I can ask the President to help those that have been experimented on should you need me to."

"That's an order. Uhura, please forward that message to Starfleet Command so we can explain as to why we're abandoning our post. Sulu, ahead warp factor four."

"Yes sir." Sulu complied, and within seconds the _Enterprise_ had pulled out of orbit and was warping through space.

* * *

A/N: I am so, so sorry. I really did not expect time to get away from me this quickly! Spring is always the busiest time in High School, and whenever I'm out of school it's always due to extra-curricular activities, which last for a multitude of days. However, in apology, I will have the next chapter uploaded tomorrow; its already half-done!

And I know Kirk's story is slow, but his is almost done. Now, all he has to worry about is helping out McCoy... or is there more in wait? Won't find out until tomorrow~


End file.
